Ten Little Housewives
by Jane Poirot
Summary: Based on Agatha Christie's 'And Then There Were None': The women of Wisteria Lane and their loved ones are invited to a New Year's Eve party by a mysterious host who proceeds to make each and every one pay for their sins...
1. Prologue

Prologue

**A/N: Hi. This is the first time I've done a fic like this. It's based on the classic Agatha Christie novel 'And Then There Were None'. It's one of (if not absolute) my all-time favourite novels in the mystery genre. I've always wanted to write a fanfic similar to the story, but I wasn't sure what fictional thing to base it on. 'Degrassi' was taken by SlasherFanatic26 (and it's an excellent, well-written variation of the novel, by the way, and I strongly recommend you read it) as was 'Teen Titans' (haven't read that one yet, but I'm sure it's pretty good) and 'Harry Potter' (ditto). Finally, I decided to settle with 'Desperate Housewives' because it seemed like a pretty good set-up: The housewives and their significant other would be brought to be punished for the sins they tried to keep hushed up behind closed doors. Your job, as the reviewer, is to guess whodunit and why before the end. You might or might not get it right, but one thing is for certain: If you love both 'And Then There Were None' and 'Desperate Housewives', you're going to have a great time with this fic! PS This takes place in an alternate universe where the tornado never took place and Gabrielle and Carlos' escape plan succeeded because we don't know when the writer's strike will end and the episode that tells us who lived and who died will finally air, so I'm using the opportunity to write this fic.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing related to 'And Then There Were None' belongs to me, nor does anything related to 'Desperate Housewives'; I do, however, own Eden Lodge!**

Edie Britt

Mike Delfino

Bree Hodge

Gabrielle Marquez

Susan Mayer

Adam Mayfair

Katherine Mayfair

Lynette Scavo

Tom Scavo

Carlos Solis

If someone told you these names were nothing more than names on a piece of paper, that this was a light-hearted happy tale — someone lied. These ten people, though different, all have one thing in common: They will each fall prey to the mind games of the murderer, whose name is on this very list. By the time they realize what is happening, it will be too late; they will all pay for their sins in the most gruesome ways the murderer will cook up with the gruesome nursery rhyme, 'Ten Little Indians'. The murderer's ingenious plan will forever be immortalized and become the main gossip on Wisteria Lane for years to come. For those who have not heard such gossip and want to find out what happened from the victims themselves, read on…


	2. Invitations

1

Invitations

It was a beautiful Christmas morning on Wisteria Lane. The sun was twinkling gleefully and reflected off the snowy blanket that covered the beautiful lawns of the beautiful homes. For the first time in no one could remember how long, Wisteria Lane appeared to be at peace.

Lynette Scavo wouldn't think so, as she and her husband, Tom Scavo, had been woken up at five in the morning by their children to inform them that Christmas had arrived and that it was time to see what they got from Santa Claus and their parents. But just to see the smiles on her children's faces had been worth it. She was especially glad to know that she had made it to Christmas, after beating cancer.

It was at noon Lynette decided to take a peaceful walk in the snow. As she opened her front door, she nearly missed the envelope that had been taped to her door, but caught it just as she turned around. She frowned. Why would someone go to the trouble of taping an envelope to her door? Well, there was no harm in checking. She took the envelope off the door, opened it, and pulled out the letter, which said the following:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Tom Scavo,

It's been years since we've last seen each other! I've heard so much about your family, Lynette! I am sorry to hear you had cancer! I hope you're feeling much better now. Well, anyway, I might as well cut to the chase: The two of you have been invited to attend a New Year's Party I am throwing at Eden Lodge on December the thirty-first! I have booked everything for you there, including the bedrooms—this will be an overnight party, don't you know. Please do come!

Sincerely,

Miss Teri Game

Lynette frowned. Had she met Teri Game before? Where did they first meet? She smiled. Of course! They must've met in college! After all, she had been rather popular back then and had too many friends to keep track of; perhaps that was how she met Teri! A New Year's Eve party would be a great getaway for her and Tom after shopping left and right for Christmas presents and having to deal with Lynette's mother. As much as Lynette loved her children, it would be nice to go to an all-adults party with Tom.

_I'll have to tell Tom about this,_ thought Lynette. She tucked the letter in the front pocket of her jacket and walked inside.

DHDHDHDHDHDHDHDH

Susan Mayer had woken up with a particularly cheerful feeling that morning. Perhaps it was because she was nearly four months pregnant, or perhaps it was because it was Christmas. Whatever the reason was, she felt thoroughly happy opening up presents with her daughter, Julie, and husband, Mike Delfino.

"A new baby name book!" squealed Susan in delight. "Mike, how did you know this was what I always wanted?"

"Gee, would you believe it had something to do with the fact that for the past two weeks, you wake up every morning to find your old baby name book and you keep saying out loud how handy it would be to save yourself the trouble and get a new one?" said Mike sarcastically, grinning.

Susan smiled back. It was nice to know the rehab program Mike agreed to check into was lifting up his spirits. "Speaking of Julie, where is she?" she wondered out loud.

"I think she might've gone to get the mail," replied Mike.

Mike's prediction proved true when Julie came back with the mail and said, "Hey, Mom; there's a letter here for you and Mike. There's no return address, which is really weird."

Susan eyed Mike suspiciously. Although Mike seemed to be sticking firmly to his promise to cure his drug addiction, there were days where the drug dealer incident echoed in her mind. Without a word, she slowly opened the envelope and read the following letter out loud:

Dear Susan,

I am really sorry to hear that you and Karl divorced! Well, I suppose it was for the best; divorcing a cheating cad will make you a lot happier than living with one, take my word for it! I once had a husband who was an absolute cheating bastard. He promised me he loved me no matter what, but day after day while doing the laundry I'd find a thong I did not recognize as my own in his pants.

But I didn't write to you to complain about my ex-husband. You see, I'm throwing a New Year's Eve party at Eden Lodge on December the thirty first! It would be wonderful if you and Mike could come! Do not worry about booking yourselves; I have taken care of everything. And just so you know, this is going to be an overnight party, so don't forget to bring the essentials for you and Mike: Lingerie and condoms!

Sincerely yours,

Miss Teri Game

"I don't know why, but for some strange reason, the name Teri rings true with me," Susan mused. "What do you think, Mike?"

Mike slowly said, "Gee, Susan, I'm not really sure. I've still got to go to rehab, remember?"

"C'mon, Mike, I think going out there and socializing with people could help you recover faster," urged Susan.

"What about Julie?" asked Mike. "We can't leave her alone."

"Relax, I'll stay with Dad," said Julie. "I think you two should go. This Teri person sounds really nice. Do you know her?"

"I'm not sure," said Susan slowly. "I might've known her in high school…well, the name Teri just rings right to me, so I say we go!"

"If I go, do you promise to stop nagging me about coming?" asked Mike.

"Absolutely," said Susan.

Mike sighed, "Fine, I'll do it."

DHDHDHDHDHDHDHDH

"Okay, everyone. Say cheese!"

Bree Hodge, her husband Orson, her grandson/adopted son Benjamin Hodge, and her two children from her previous marriage, Danielle and Andrew Van de Kamp, all said "Cheese!" (except for Benjamin, who just gave the camera a blank look) as the camera Orson had set up took a picture of all of them sitting around the evergreen Christmas tree surrounding by unwrapped gifts.

"Okay, folks, I think that's a wrap," said Orson as he got up to take the camera down.

"Danielle, would you mind holding Benjamin for just a second while I go get the mail?" asked Bree.

"It's okay, Mom; I'll save you the extra trip and go get the mail for you," said Andrew quickly, getting up.

"Who are you and what have you done to Andrew Van de Kamp?" teased Danielle, who couldn't forget Andrew's attempts to make their mother's life a living hell in the past.

Bree felt tears come to her eyes. After all the trials and tribulations she had gone through with her children and Orson—Orson's mysterious past, Andrew's out-of-line-is-an-understatement behaviour, Danielle's pregnancy—this was the first time in years Bree ever felt truly at peace with her family. Here they all were, celebrating Christmas together as though nothing had ever happened.

"Mom, what's wrong?" asked Danielle.

"Oh, it's nothing Danielle," said Bree softly. "It's just that when I think about all we've been through and how this day makes it seem as though none of that happened, it makes me glad to have you all here. I'm glad to know that the love Orson and I have is strong, and that Andrew and you have buried your issues with me—and that we have a new family member to celebrate all this with us. Oh, I think he wants you to hold him." She gently put Benjamin in Danielle's arms and said softly, as though to herself, "Yes, this is picture perfect. And there is nothing that can ruin it."

At that moment, Andrew came back with the mail and said, "Hey, Mom, there's a letter for you that doesn't have a return address."

"Perfect timing," said Danielle. "Mom was going sentimental on me."

Bree ignored Danielle and took the envelope from Andrew's hand. In typical Bree-fashion, she gently opened the envelope without tearing it, took the letter out, and read it out loud:

Dearest Bree,

I can't quite recall the last time we saw each other, but I do remember you from one of your famous dinner parties—those dinners you cook are so delicious! In fact, they are even better than those stuffy old dinners Katherine Mayfair cooks! That is why it is my pleasure to invite you to come to my overnight New Year's Eve party on December the thirty-first at Eden Lodge. And don't worry; everything's already been booked. Don't forget to bring your legendary roast chicken with you!

Sincerely,

Miss Teri Game

At that moment, the phone rang. Bree put the letter down and went to answer the phone. "This is Bree Hodge speaking."

"Bree?" said a familiar voice on the other end. "It's Gaby."

"Gaby! I haven't heard from you in weeks!" exclaimed Bree. The last time she saw Gabrielle Marquez was when she explained to Bree and the other housewives (save Katherine Mayfair, Bree's rival) she and her ex-husband, Carlos Solis, were having an affair that resulted in them nearly killing her husband, Victor, and thus the need to leave the neighbourhood as quickly as possible. "How are things with Carlos going?"

"In bed or general?"

"I mean in general."

"So far, Victor hasn't found us, so I'd think they're going great—but that's not why I called. You see, I got this really weird letter in the mail from someone named Miss Teri Game. She claimed to be one of the models I met back when I was a runway model and invited me to this overnight party at Eden Lodge."

"Funny you should say that; I got a similar letter, too, only Miss Game said she had heard about my famous dinner parties and wanted me to bring my legendary roast chicken."

"Weird. I'm just calling to see if you know her; I don't recall working with anyone who went by the name of Teri Game, but then again, I've worked with too many models for me to keep track of."

"Same here. I don't remember inviting anyone named Teri Game to any of my dinner parties, but I must admit there are times where I have trouble remembering everyone I invited."

"Well, is Orson invited, too?"

"No, just me."

"According to the invitation, Teri wants both Carlos and me to come. I wonder why she wants just you to come."

"Perhaps it's because she was one of the guests from the dinner parties before Rex's death and she heard Rex had died and didn't know if I had remarried or not."

"Gaby?" said a voice in the background on the other line. "I brought the whipped cream and the bananas."

"Is that Carlos?" asked Bree.

"Yeah," said Gabrielle. "He doesn't know about our mysterious invitation yet."

"Mysterious invitation?" said Carlos' voice in the background. "What's this about a mysterious invitation?"

"Not now, sweetie; I'll explain after we play our little games with the whipped cream and the bananas—oh, but you forgot the Oreos," said Gabrielle.

"Gabrielle, exactly what are you and Carlos doing with whipped cream, bananas, and Oreos?" asked Bree, suspecting she didn't want to know the answer to that question.

"Uh…see you at Eden Lodge; bye!" said Gabrielle who quickly hanged up.

Bree shook her head, sighed, and hang up.

"Who was that?" asked Orson.

"Oh, that was Gabrielle Marquez," explained Bree. "She said she and Carlos got an invitation from Miss Game, too."

"She **and** Carlos?" asked Orson. "How come I wasn't invited as well?"

"Oh, you didn't hear me come up with my explanation while talking to Gabrielle?" said Bree.

"No, Danielle played airplane with Benjamin and he threw up all over her," explained Orson. "So I had to clean them both up."

"Oh," said Bree. "Where's Benjamin?"

"He's in his crib now," replied Orson.

Bree re-explained her theory.

"Interesting theory," said Orson. "So do you think you're going?"

"Orson, I was invited by someone who clearly has fond memories of me; of course I'm going," said Bree as though the answer was obvious.

"All right, have fun," said Orson. "Too bad I wasn't invited, though; we'd both have a great time."

"I'm sorry, Orson; I would bring you along if I could, but Miss Game specifically asked for **me,**" apologized Bree. "I think she would feel a little awkward if you came."

"It's all right," said Orson. "Go ahead; have the time of your life."

Bree smiled. "I'm sure I will."

DHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDH

Edie Britt went on her 'come-and-get-me-boys' morning walk. She strutted like a proud rooster through the snow. Much to her dismay, all the men had decided to stay home on Christmas morning. She sighed a dismal sigh and began to turn back—when she saw Katherine Mayfair reading a letter. Curious, she sauntered over and said, "So, Katherine, what's that you're reading?"

"I don't see why it's any business of yours," said Katherine coolly, holding the letter close to herself. During her four months of staying on Wisteria Lane, she had come to learn of Edie's ways with men—and was going to make sure her husband didn't also fall prey to Edie.

"C'mon, we're neighbours, we can share stuff like this with one another!" said Edie in a voice that sounded a bit too cheery for herself. "I mean, I got a letter this morning!"

"What was it; some guy demanding he wanted his money back?" asked Katherine sarcastically.

Edie sneered, "Ha-ha. For your information, I got a letter from a Miss Teri Game who claims to have met me in high school and wants me to come to her New Year's Eve party."

Katherine paused and asked, "Where is she holding this party?"

"At Eden Lodge," shrugged Edie. "But why would you want to know?"

"Because I got a letter from Miss Teri Game, too," said Katherine slowly. "She said she wanted Adam and I to come to her New Year's Eve party at Eden Lodge because she went to one of my dinner parties in the past and said she preferred my dinner parties over that stuffy old Bree Hodge's—her words, not mine," she quickly added.

"Looks like we're in the same boat, then," said Edie. "See? You had nothing to hide."

"Right," muttered Katherine, thinking, _As long as you never find out, everything's going to be just fine._

Yes, everything would be just fine, indeed. The murderer's trap had already been set in place. Hook, line, and sinker…


	3. The Arrival

3

The Arrival

Eden Lodge was at least five or ten miles away from the hiking trail. From a distance, it looked like a typical lodge placed on top of an isolated mountain, but up close, it was a real spectacle. The building was made of sturdy oak, resulting in beautiful, shiny oak walls that made their colour present by day and reflected off the moonlight by night, as were the inside walls and stars. The roof shingles were made out of a richly coloured mahogany that produced a similar effect. The best part was that the backyard had a few steps leading up to a forest. Isn't it amazing how something that looks so beautiful on the outside can be so deadly on the inside?

At around four o' clock on the last day of December, the ten guests arrived via cable car. They each arrived two by two. The first cable car to reach Eden Lodge was the one carrying Gabrielle and Carlos. They stepped out cautiously, for they had spotted Edie while driving to the station for their desired vehicles and were trying to avoid running into her.

"Do you think Edie was invited to Teri's party, too?" asked Gabrielle.

"Nah," said Carlos, shaking his head. "Seeing her down there was probably just a coincidence. She might've been going somewhere that was down the same road as Eden Lodge."

"Yeah," said Gabrielle, though she was shaking slightly. "Maybe she was on her way to, I don't know, buy a smoothie or something."

"Or maybe," said a voice that made the hairs on Gabrielle's arms stand straight up, "I was invited to Teri Game's party and just realized two certain people I know were also invited."

Gabrielle and Carlos turned around and sure enough, there was Edie, clenching the handle of her suitcase as though she were imagining it to be Gabrielle's neck.

"Oh, Edie, hi!" said Gabrielle in a high-pitched voice. "Carlos and I were just talking about you!"

"I heard," said Edie coldly. She walked up to Carlos and Gabrielle. "Just because I want to remind Teri of the good person I am, I'll act as though the three of us are the best of friends, but the minute we get back to Fairview, Victor will learn of your whereabouts, Gabrielle. He's getting better quite fast and he just **misses** you, Gaby. Waking up without you is absolutely **killing** him."

Not wanting to make a scene in front of the others, Gabrielle coldly asked, "So who's your cable car buddy?"

"That would be me," piped up Tom as he walked up to the lodge.

The next two people to arrive were Lynette and Bree. "Why are you all still standing here?" asked Bree, surprised. "I thought Miss Game would've greeted her guests by now."

"Maybe she's busy preparing dinner," suggested Lynette. "After all, she **did** invite ten people. She'd have to prepare a dinner big enough for all of us."

Soon, Susan and Mike, and Katherine and Adam made it to the lodge—and still no Teri Game.

"I'm beginning to get a little antsy," said Susan nervously. "What if we came at the wrong time? What if we came too early?"

"Maybe Miss Game forgot about us," said Gabrielle in an equally nervous tone.

Tom rolled his eyes and said, "You're all being ridiculous. Have any of you even bothered to check if Miss Game left the door open for us?"

There was no answer.

"I didn't think so," said Tom. He began to march to the front doors, but was stopped by Bree who said, "Forgive me for saying so, Tom, but just barging right in through the front doors is not only impolite, it's unethical. Maybe Miss Game is just running a little late."

"And maybe she's so busy cooking for all of us she can't get the door right now, so she left it open for us, ever thought of that?" countered Tom.

Bree hadn't thought of that, so Tom just turned the doorknobs on the two front doors—and lo and behold, they opened.

"See?" smirked Tom. Everyone walked tightly together into Eden Lodge. There were two flower-shaped lamps firmly attached to either side of the doors on the inside. The light produced from these lamps generated a beautiful reflection on the creamy-brown oak. Yes, the house looked as though it had been neatly polished for hours—but there was no host.

"Hello?" called out Lynette. "Miss Game? It's us—your guests."

No answer.

"Odd," muttered Mike.

"Maybe Miss Game's still in the kitchen and can't hear us, like Tom suggested," said Bree.

"I'll go get her," volunteered Adam. He walked to the kitchen, the door to which was left of the neatly polished stairs. He came out a minute later. "There's no one there," he said, beginning to get a little uneasy by the host's absence.

"She's probably just running a little late," said Gabrielle, partially saying this to ease her own nerves. "After all, the weatherman **did** say there was going to be a huge blizzard coming; maybe it's just starting now."

There was an awkward silence before Bree cheerfully suggested, "Well, why don't we prepare dinner ourselves? We'll take turns using whatever food we have while going upstairs and getting ready. We'll surprise Miss Game with a grand dinner when she comes back."

No one argued with this so within five minutes, everyone was preparing some kind of dish or other (Bree and Katherine's dishes had already been set aside for later while they went upstairs to get dressed and do up their hair). Within forty-five minutes, there were enough servings for all ten of them—and Miss Game, of course. Once they were done, the rest went upstairs to get ready.

It was Gabrielle who was the first to notice something that wasn't right, for it was her window that was facing out towards the wire that held up the cable cars. She was busy blow-drying her wet hair and brushing it so it produced a wavy effect, when she saw something strange. She turned off the hair-dryer and put it down on the wooden dresser. She got up, walked over to the window, and took a long, hard look out of it.

"Gaby?"

Gabrielle nearly jumped at the sound of Carlos' voice. "Holy crap, Carlos! You nearly scared me!"

Carlos, who was now handsomely dressed, walked up to Gabrielle and asked, "What's outside that's so fascinating?"

"More like creepy," said Gabrielle. "I just hope Teri made it here while we were busy cooking."

"Why?" asked Carlos.

"Look," said Gabrielle, who pointed at the space where the cable cars and their supporter once were.

**A/N: Sorry if this chapter was a little boring or fast-paced; I just wanted to get the story moving along because I wanted to update it on the last day of 2007, which ironically is also the day everyone arrives at Eden Lodge. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, and happy new year! May 2008 be a great year for writers and readers alike!**


	4. Dinner

4

Dinner

"Are you **sure?**" asked Bree.

It was now six o' clock and everyone was sitting together having dinner. Gabrielle had just told them of her discovery.

"I'm **positive,**" said Gabrielle. "I looked out the window and the cable thing was gone. It's like someone chopped it off or something!"

"Now that you mention it, I **do** remember hearing something earlier while getting dressed for dinner," mused Lynette. "I first heard a dull thud a few times which was followed by the sound of pots and pans crashing. You don't think…?"

She looked around the table at everyone. They were thinking the same thing, but they all said, "Nah," though they looked unsure.

"Poor Miss Game," said Bree. "She didn't even make it back here." Her long, red hair was up in a neat bun. She was wearing a sleeveless white dress that came down to her ankles, along with matching heels.

"I'm sure she's here somewhere; in fact, I wouldn't be surprised if she's on the other side of that door right now laughing her ass off at how successful her practical joke is going," said Edie, who was wearing a tight black sweater, tight black pants, and tight black boots. Her hair was up in a ponytail.

"But why would she play a joke like **this**—hiding herself from us and cutting the cable?" asked Gabrielle, whose lovely curls went nicely with her sparkling beige dress that looked like something the Greeks would wear.

"Maybe she's just the eccentric type," suggested Tom. He, along with all the other men, was wearing a tuxedo; unlike the others in their traditional 'penguin' attire, his jacket and shirt were white and he was wearing black pants.

"This is nothing," scoffed Carlos. "The most eccentric host Gabrielle and I ever met wore nothing but a trench coat and when he made his little speech—"

"We get it," said Katherine and Adam quickly. Katherine's auburn hair was neatly curled and rested on her bare shoulders. She was wearing a shamrock green, strapless gown.

Susan, with her partially tied-up hair and long ruby red gown, decided to change the subject: "Hey, look at those little Indians on that centerpiece!"

In the middle of the table, there was a centerpiece that had ten little porcelain Indians on it standing in a circle, with their chests puffed out and their headdresses upright, looking their most dignified.

"Interesting," said Mike. "How many are there?"

"Ten," said Lynette. "I counted just now." Her usually bald head was covered with a beautiful chestnut blonde wig. She was wearing a scarlet gown with black strap shoes and had a faux fur shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

"They remind me of the ten little Indian boys from that nursery rhyme back when I was kid," mused Tom.

"I don't remember ever having that rhyme read out to me," said Bree.

"Of course your parents wouldn't want you to listen to **that** rhyme," said Lynette. "I don't remember all the details, but I do remember it being a little violent and gruesome."

"And it's supposedly a **children's** nursery rhyme?" asked Bree.

"Well, a lot of children's nursery rhymes are violent," said Katherine. "Like three blind mice, hickory dickory dock, rock-a-bye baby—the list goes on and on."

"Don't forget the Disney movies that are advertised to be suitable for all ages," piped up Lynette. "I used to get nightmares from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves."

"And let us not forget the Bambi fiasco with the kids," groaned Tom.

"Right," said Lynette. "Isn't it funny how a lot of things aimed at kids have a lot of violence in them? But enough talk about children; let's talk about other things."

"Like the cable car cord," said Gabrielle. "Do you think it just snapped, or…?"

Once again, everyone said, "Nah," even though they all knew what the suggestion was—and only the murderer knew the suggestion was correct…


	5. The Accusation

5

The Accusation

After supper, everyone retreated to the parlour. The wooden fireplace blazed on as each guest sat down one at a time. Susan was the last to sit down and as she did, cheery music was heard. "What the—where's that music coming from?" asked Susan, who was looking everywhere to find the source of the music.

"I don't know, but it sounds really happy," said Lynette. "It reminds me of the gentle music I used when Penny was a baby to help her sleep."

Just then, a merry little voice began to sing:

"_**Ten little Indian boys going out to dine**_

_**One choked his little self and then there were nine."**_

"Not really the type of lyrics I'd let _my_ baby listen to," snickered Edie.

"_**Nine little Indian boys sat up very late**_

_**One overslept himself and then there were eight."**_

Lynette blushed. She stammered, "Well, I meant the **music**, not the—"

"_**Eight little Indian boys travelling in Devon**_

_**One said he'd stay there and then there were seven."**_

"Why, this song is incredibly politically incorrect!" exclaimed Bree in disgust.

"_**Seven little Indian boys chopping up sticks**_

_**One chopped himself in halves and then there were six."**_

"Just what is the implication of this song exactly; that the Indian population should be wiped out?"

"_**Six little Indian boys playing with a hive**_

_**A bumblebee stung one and then there were five."**_

"Relax, Bree; just be thankful it's not six little **Niggers**," said Mike.

"_**Five little Indian boys going in for law**_

_**One got into Chancery and then there were four."**_

Bree gasped, "Mike! How can you use such a derogatory term for dark-skinned people?"

"_**Four little Indian boys going out to sea**_

_**A red herring swallowed one and then there were three."**_

"Sorry, no offence," said Mike quickly. "I'm just saying there's no need to get worked up over this."

"_**Three little Indian boys walking in the zoo**_

_**A big bear hugged one and then there were two."**_

"And I'm just saying that this song could be more politically correct; they could use soldier boys or sailor boys instead, for instance," said Bree.

"_**Two little Indian boys sitting in the sun**_

_**One got frizzled up and then there was one."**_

"Hold your horses, Bree," sighed Edie. "The song's down to the last Indian boy."

"_**One little Indian boy left all alone**_

_**He went and hanged himself and then there were none."**_

The music ended there. Gabrielle laughed, "If you thought Bree's reaction to **this** song was bad, you should've heard her when the mall music was Promiscuous. It was just **hilarious**!"

"For your information, those were suggestive lyrics that I think shouldn't be played in public places where little children and babies could hear it!" said Bree defensively.

Just when Gabrielle was about to make another wise comment about Bree, an oddly familiar voice boomed _"Ladies and gentlemen! Silence please!"_

Obediently, a large silence fell upon the group, mainly so they could remain quiet and find the source of the voice. The voice spoke up again: _"Though you are all different, you have one thing in common: Each and every one of you is a sinner. What's worse, you all tried to cover up your sins and put a pleasant smile on your faces as though nothing was wrong. You may have managed to fool the rest of the world, but none of you were able to pull the wool over my eyes. These are the following sins that each of you committed."_

The silence was practically deadly. Fury and curiosity was beginning to build up inside each of the guests. Sins! Them! How dare that person say such horrible things! What did they know about their lives anyway? How could they prove they did anything wrong? But what about the others? What could they have done that was so bad they were called sinners?

"_Edie Britt,"_ spoke the accusing voice, _"you are unable to commit yourself to a serious relationship. To you, men are just toys that you play with until you get tired with it and move on to the next toy. When you found three men who captured your heart, you were willing to stoop pretty low to get them. You lied to Mike Delfino about his past, burned down the house of Susan Mayer, and faked a suicide attempt to win back Carlos Solis."_

Edie's eyes narrowed in anger. _What?_ Okay, so maybe she did do those things, but why mention them in front of anyone who could go to the police as soon as they got back to Fairview?

'_Mike Delfino, you use your handsome looks to make up for a fearful past: Your father was a murderer, you killed a police officer, and you have hidden your addiction to pain killers from your wife."_

Mike clenched and unclenched his fists. All that was a long time ago! And he was in rehab now; he had changed for the better…right?

"_Bree Hodge, on the outside, you appear to be a perfect little thing, but on the inside, you're anything but perfect. To you, everything just has to be perfect or else you'll go straight to pieces. Instead of turning your son over to the police like you should have when he ran over Juanita Solis, you had his car stolen. You dated your pharmacist while you were still with your husband, which ultimately led to both your husband's and your pharmacist's deaths. After your son drove you to a breaking point, you ruthlessly abandoned him. I'm talking about your full-grown son, of course, not your infant one—or should I say, your infant __**grandson**__ to whom life was given by your daughter, Danielle Van de Kamp?"_

Bree sat absolutely still as a statue, but inside her emotions were burning like fire. She had worked so hard to make sure no one found out about any of that—how could someone just go ahead and reveal all that to everyone? Would they repeat it to anyone else once they got back to Fairview?

"_Gabrielle Marquez, you may be beautiful, but you are also a selfish, materialistic woman. You are like a bottomless pit; no matter how much men give you—be it materialistic or sexual—it is never enough; you always want more, more, more. You committed not only adultery, but statutory rape with your teenage gardener, which ultimately led up to Andrew Van de Kamp running over your mother-in-law. When you and your ex-husband were looking for eligible candidates for a baby to adopt, you turned down perfectly nice women who would've never acted on selfish impulse and taken their baby back—all because these women were ugly. You turned two close friends against each other so you could satisfy your lust with one of those girls' father. And in what may have been your greatest sin of all, you committed adultery once again with your ex-husband, which led up to your current husband nearly drowning."_

Gabrielle tried to put on a smile, but it couldn't hide her initial fury. Was this Edie's idea of a sick joke? Wait—the voice couldn't be Edie's; it sounded too husky, and besides, Edie herself reacted angrily to her accusation.

"_Susan Mayer, though you and Edie Britt are enemies, the two of you have at least one thing in common: Both of you are unable to commit to a steady relationship. You acted like a silly, immature teenage girl to win over the heart of your doctor, you slept with your ex-husband while he was still with Edie, and you toyed with the hearts of two men who both loved you. Of course, that's not the only similarity you share with Edie; both of you burned each other's houses down."_

Susan kept telling herself to calm down, that this stress wasn't good for her unborn child, but it was no use; she was ready to just murder the person who accused her of such things. Silly? Immature? _Her?_

"_Adam and Katherine Mayfair, much like Bree Hodge, you two are willing to stoop to every level to make sure your dark pasts are never found out by your neighbours. You'd do anything to make sure no one found out the reason why you had to leave Chicago was because Adam slept with one of his patients who threatened to sue on grounds for sexual harassment, wouldn't you? Or how far would you go to make sure the truth about Dylan's father is never leaked out?"_

Adam and Katherine glanced at each other before staring straight ahead, not daring to look anyone in the eye, afraid that even the slightest facial expression would give them away.

"_Tom and Lynette Scavo, on the surface, you appear as typical working parents with five brats at home, but underneath, you've committed sins just as dirty as the rest. You, Tom, fathered a bastard child with another woman during a one-night stand and lied to your wife about going to see the child whom you ruthlessly abandoned. And you, Lynette, have not been that much better; you allowed your stress to get the better of you and you became addicted to your children's ADD medication. You posed as your boss on-line and made sexual comments to his wife. And to top it all off, you bribed an innocent boy so your son could win just one baseball game."_

Tom and Lynette held hands and tightly squeezed. How could anyone accuse them of such things? Well okay, so maybe the part about the child from the one-night stand was true…but ruthlessly **abandoned?**

"_Carlos Solis, you are a very temperamental, possessive man. If anyone wants the same person you want, you are willing to go to desperate lengths to make sure that person is out of the way, even if you do not really want that person after all. During your first few years of being married to Gabrielle Marquez, you treated her as a trophy wife. No wonder she had an affair with her teenage gardener! You didn't realize this was the man she was having an affair with, of course, so you bashed two innocent men who did nothing to you. You later on took revenge on your wife by committing adultery with a woman who was surrogating another couple's baby. And you, together with your ex-wife, committed adultery which nearly resulted in the death of Gabrielle's husband."_

Carlos began to shoot up from his seat, but Gabrielle placed a hand on his arm and gestured for him to calm down. They were just as angry about this as everyone else was.

"_If you sinners have anything to say in your defence, speak now, or forever hold your peace."_

There was absolute silence for about ten seconds before Edie spoke up: "Karen McCluskey?"


	6. One choked his little self

6

One choked his little self…

Karen McCluskey? But—no, Edie must've heard the voice wrong. Why on Earth would Mrs. McCluskey sling accusations like mud at them? And yet there was the possibility that Edie was right, for the voice **did** share a tad resemblance with Mrs. McCluskey's voice…

"What. The. Hell. Was. **That,**" said Tom slowly and angrily. "Whose idea of a joke is this?"

"Apparently, this is Mrs. McCluskey's idea of a joke," spoke up Edie.

"Why would she say such horrible things about us?" asked Bree.

"Heaven knows," said Susan. "What I'd like to know is where was that voice coming from?"

Mike got up, looked down, and noticed a thick wire. He followed the wire, like Hansel and Gretel following the trail of gingerbread crumbs to the witch's house, until it appeared to stop at a small compartment with the door closed. He opened the door to find a garden variety CD player. Just to make sure this contained the same CD that judged them, he pressed Play. The first few notes of the lullaby began to play.

Mike quickly turned it off. "So that's where it came from," he said softly.

"But how was it turned on if we were all sitting here?" asked Susan.

Mike got a sudden thought. He asked Susan to stand up. She obeyed. He walked up to the chair she was sitting down on, lifted up the seat cushion—and sure enough, there was a remote.

"If you're suggesting **I** turned it on—" Susan began, but she was cut off by Lynette: "Whoa, whoa, whoa, we're not saying anyone turned it on. You might have just accidentally sat on it."

"Don't you think I'd know if I sat on a remote?" snapped Susan.

"The remote was underneath a cushion, Susan; there was no way you could've felt it," said Carlos, holding up his hands.

"Oh, so now I'm extremely insensitive, is that it?" said Susan angrily.

Mike got up and put his hands on Susan's shoulders. "You'll have to excuse Susan," he apologized. "I think the pregnancy hormones combined with the stress of having false accusations slung against her is getting to be a bit too much."

Edie poured herself a glass of Chardonnay wine. "Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but those accusations against **me** were completely false," she said.

"Really?" said Susan coldly. "Cause to me, at least two of those sounded true."

"I don't know what you're talking about," shrugged Edie.

"Oh yes you do," growled Susan. "You **did** burn down my house **and** you lied to Mike about his past just to turn him against me!"

Edie smiled a smug smile. "No, I don't remember doing any of that and I **especially** don't remember faking a suicide attempt. That would be just plain **cruel**."

Susan sat down, tightly clenching her fists.

"And besides," Edie continued, "how does what **you** did make you that much better? Playing sick just so some dumb doctor can see you naked for professional reasons—how low can you **get?** Or what about sleeping with Karl while I was with him? Or what about the time you burned down my house? I'm sure you remember **that.**"

Deciding to give Edie a taste of her own medicine, Susan coolly said, "Really? I don't know what you're talking about."

"Okay, then, what about those two men whose hearts you played with?" questioned Edie. "Surely **that** one must've been true. I'm sure Mike agrees with me."

"Well, yeah, you **could** say it's true," admitted Mike.

Edie smirked.

"But I think that in the end, Susan made the right decision," said Mike, who wrapped one arm around Susan's shoulder.

Susan stuck her tongue out at Edie.

"Since I was the next one to speak, I guess I should admit to my guilty little secrets," said Mike, who took a few steps forward. "Yes, I killed a police officer out of self-defence, yes my dad killed someone, and yes I did develop an addiction to pain killers and hid it from Susan right up until she forced me to go to rehab. But does any of this suggest I'm a bad person? No, it does not. Thank you." He sat down.

Tom was the next to speak: "Whoever the owner of that voice was—Mrs. McCluskey or otherwise—I admit that the part about me having a child from a one-night stand is true, but that's it. I had no idea she even **existed** until her mother contacted me one day and told me about her. 'Ruthlessly abandoned'…if I ever meet the person who recorded those accusations, I swear to God I'll…" He didn't finish, but the others knew what he meant.

"Do you have anything to say about the accusations against you, Lynette?" inquired Mike.

"Only this: I might have gotten carried away with taking my children's medication and I **might** have made a few inappropriate comments to my boss' wife, but I have **never** stooped to bribery," said Lynette, looking Edie straight in the eye. The truth was, she had done all of the above, including bribery, but there was no way in hell she was going to admit it.

"And you, Katherine?" asked Mike.

"Adam and I have nothing to say," spoke up Katherine.

"Nothing?" asked Mike.

"Nothing," said Adam, who shared a look with his wife.

Bree spoke up: "Actually, Adam has another secret: He was the one who delivered my daughter's baby. I didn't want her to be embarrassed so yes, Orson and I put on a little charade."

"You mean **you** didn't want to be embarrassed," said Katherine flatly.

Bree ignored Katherine and went on: "Furthermore, I would like to state for the record that although Andrew wasn't a little angel, he would never go so far as to actually run over someone with his car and that no matter how many times he nearly drove me to the breaking point, I would never, ever abandon my own son." Her voice began to break up, but she was able to hold herself together. She looked Susan in the eye, mentally telling her to keep quiet, for only Susan knew the truth (about Bree abandoning Andrew, anyway).

"What about that pharmacist you dated?" asked Katherine.

Still able to compose herself, Bree calmly said, "Rex and I were in the middle of a divorce, so to get back at him, I—went on a date with my pharmacist, George, but he was a bit…unstable. I calmly told him that no matter what, Rex would always be my true love, and so he—tampered with Rex's heart medication and Rex eventually died." She paused to stop herself from breaking down. "Shortly after, we started going out, but I eventually figured out his instability and broke it off with him. He took it badly and killed himself."

Of course, that was only because George was making an attempt to win Bree over but by then she had realized he was responsible for Rex's death and allowed him to die, but they didn't need to know that little detail.

"I'm telling you—total Republican," Edie muttered to Susan.

"Gabrielle? Carlos? You two haven't gone yet," said Mike.

"Well, I don't think the thing about my affair with my teenage gardener needs much explanation," said Gabrielle. "Hell, I think even the President knows! But fine—I did turn down a lot of borderline-ugly girls when Carlos and I were searching for a baby to adopt. And yes, I turned two little girls against each other so I could be with the father of one of those girls. You can call me a shallow, conniving bitch, but the one thing you can never call me is a wanna-be murderer. I swear Carlos and I never even **touched** Victor—well okay, **I** touched Victor—but not in **that** way, I mean…sexually, you know?"

"We know," said Edie, looking straight at Gabrielle and Carlos.

Avoiding Edie's eyes, Carlos said, "I admit I treated Gabrielle a bit unfairly during our first few years of being married, but when I found out about the affair…something inside of me changed. It made me realize how much I really cared about Gaby. And okay, I did have an affair with our former maid Xiao-Mei—but that was only because Gaby gave me permission to do so."

"She gave you permission to have an affair?" said Katherine reluctantly.

"Yes, she did," said Carlos.

"Uh-huh," said Katherine, thinking, _Now I know these people are REALLY screwed up._

"Anyone else have anything to say?" said Mike.

"I do," said Bree, slowly getting up. "While everyone else has been telling their side of the story, I've been thinking about Miss Teri Game. I thought, 'What kind of host would invite a lot of people here only to throw vicious lies at them and mysteriously disappear? What kind of mystery game is she playing with us?' And that was when I realized it: Miss. Teri. Game. Or…_mystery game!_"

Everyone spoke at once. "How incredible!" "I don't believe it!" "Is it just a coincidence?" "I knew there was something I didn't like about the name Teri!"

Lynette did a trick she had learned during her years of being a mother: She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. Everyone quieted down. Lynette said slowly, "I don't know who this Miss Teri Game is, but if she went to the trouble of luring us here only to accuse us of all these horrible things, she must be dangerous. I say we try to find a way to get the heck out of here _immediately_."

"But how?" asked Gabrielle. "The cable cord is cut and since we told our families this was going to be an overnight thing, they won't get worried if we're not back by tomorrow. If we're gone for more than two or three days, they might notice something's up, but how long do we have until then before Miss Game does whatever she wants to do with us?"

"We could always try skiing," suggested Tom. "We could find whatever we could and make skis out of those."

"But the path back down is tilted at a certain angle **and** it's fifty feet deep," pointed out Carlos. "I say we find some mountain climbing equipment and climb down."

"According to the forecast, there's going to be a huge blizzard tonight," said Susan. "I don't think we'd make it past five feet."

"Is there a radio around here somewhere?" asked Mike. "We could call for help with that."

"First of all, I don't think there is a radio here," said Edie. "Second, even if you did find a radio, it probably wouldn't work because of all the snow; third, what would we tell them? We want to go home because of a few creepy events? And fourth," she picked up her wine glass which she still hadn't drunk out of, "why would you want to leave? I suggest we stay here, find this Miss Teri Game, and make her pay for all those things she said about us." She raised her glass. "I propose a toast: Here's to 2008! May it be one of the most thrilling years of our lives!" She brought the glass to her lips and gulped her drink down in one sip.

Almost instantly, Edie regretted taking that sip. She frowned and gasped for air, but this proved to be difficult.

"Whoa, maybe you shouldn't have gulped that down so fast," said Susan.

Edie began to cough and choke.

"Edie?" asked Susan, suddenly concerned.

Edie's face turned blue and she continued to choke and gasp for air before she finally fell down on the floor with a resounding thud.

Everyone stood there in silence before Adam bent down over Edie. He felt for anything that would be a telltale sign of life; a pulse, a heartbeat, breathing. Finally, he stood up, shaking, and said in disbelief, "She's dead."

No one could take it in. Dead? Edie Britt, neighbourhood skank, former love interest of Karl Mayer and Carlos Solis—_dead?_

"You mean she just choked—and **died?**" whispered Bree.

"She died of asphyxiation at any rate," said Adam. He pried the glass from Edie's dead fingers. He smelled it. Frowning, he dipped a finger in it and laid that finger ever so gently on the tip of his tongue. "Cyanide," he said. "It acts instantaneously."

"Cyanide?" asked Gabrielle. "But where the heck would you find cyanide in a lodge?"

"Exactly," said Adam. "It's more than likely Edie took it with her."

"You mean she put the stuff in—_herself?_" asked a disbelieving Susan.

"Most likely," said Adam. "I can't imagine any other explanation."

Neither could anyone else.

"So…off to bed now, I suppose?" suggested Bree weakly.

"Good idea," said Carlos. "I think we'll have a fancy celebration for the upcoming new year—**next **year."

"Before we go, I think we should carry Edie's body and put it in her room," spoke up Susan.

"Sound plan," said Katherine.

Carlos and Gabrielle, out of guilt, volunteered to take Edie's body to her room, which turned out to be the one bedroom on the first floor. Everyone else went upstairs to their rooms. Before Tom followed suite, however, he took a peek into the dining room and muttered, "I could've sworn there were ten of them…"


	7. Reflection

7

Reflection

After neatly placing Edie in her room, Gabrielle and Carlos went to their room in absolute silence. They sat on the bed for about a minute before Carlos leaned in and kissed Gabrielle. She returned the kiss, only with more passion, more fire. She began to unbutton Carlos' jacket then stopped. She parted slightly. She said, "Sorry. I don't know what came over me. Let's continue."

The passionate kissing resumed. Carlos put one hand on Gabrielle's right shoulder and began to gently lower the strap on her dress—but he, too, stopped. They lay there for about a minute before Gabrielle said, "Carlos…you don't think Edie killed herself…because of _us?_"

"I don't know," said Carlos softly. "She _did_ try to hang herself when I broke it off with her the first time. I guess having it happen a second time was too much for her."

"Yeah," said Gabrielle softly. She paused before saying, "I think we should just go to bed. No sex tonight. Somehow, it just doesn't feel right, us having sex while Edie's dead, knowing we may have caused her death."

"Same here," said Carlos. He paused before saying, "Edie has a son. Did you know that?"

"No," said Gabrielle. "When did _that_ happen?"

"A couple years ago, when she was with her first husband before divorcing him," explained Carlos. "I met him when her ex-husband dropped him off while going to a Doctors Without Borders meeting in Africa. His name is Travers. He seemed to really love his mother. How do you think he's going to react when he finds out that his mommy, whom he loved very much and expected to see next year on his yearly visit, had killed herself and he never even got to say goodbye to her?"

Gabrielle shifted uncomfortably. "I never thought of that," said Gabrielle softly. "I remember my father died of cancer when I was five. It nearly destroyed me, but I was able to pretend to the world like nothing was wrong. Kind of like how we pretended nothing was wrong when we talked about the accusations against us."

"Or how everyone else pretended nothing was wrong," said Carlos. "You know, I have to wonder: How many of them were telling the truth? How can we take their word for it that they're saints who have never done anything wrong? After all, _we_ lied about that little incident with Victor, right?"

"Right," said Gabrielle, nodding.

There was an awkward silence. "So," said Gabrielle, "Do you want to get changed for bed first?"

"Sure," said Carlos. He got up to get his pyjamas out of the wardrobe he put them in.

Gabrielle watched Carlos pityingly and thought, _Oh, Carlos. If only you knew…_

DHDHDHDHDH

Bree curled up underneath the warm blankets in the snug bed. It felt strange, being the only one besides Edie to come here without a husband (or lover, in Gabrielle's case) and now Edie was dead, so that left her.

What was she going to do at night without a husband? Without someone to talk to? Think? Well, if it was the only option available—

Memories of Bree's childhood began to drift back. Her first day of Kindergarten, losing her first tooth, encounters with a childhood bully, her mother's blood all over the street—

Bree got up to get a glass of water. As her feet descended across the wooden floor, she thought, _Why would Edie want to kill herself? I've had moments where I just want to take my handgun and shoot myself with it, but instead of acting on this impulse, I ignored it and faced my problems head on. Why couldn't she do the same? Why couldn't Mary Alice Young have done the same for that matter?_

Thinking up a reason for Edie's suicide proved to be hard, so Bree walked up to her door and, almost without conscious thought, locked it. No one would be alarmed if she didn't return tomorrow—or the day after—but they might get concerned by the fourth day, if not the one before. Until then…what to do until then? She didn't have much time until then, so she had to act now, or everything would fall to pieces…

DHDHDHDHDH

Mike sat on the cold bathroom floor, holding a bottle that contained Aspirin. It was so tempting to take just one pill—just one—and that would be it.

Ah yes, the classic cliché of drug addicts: "Just one more time and never again". Mike laughed softly. He knew that if he took one, all progress he had made over the past month would fall to pieces. All because of just one pill. Just one.

Mike slowly stood up and put the Aspirin back in the medicine cabinet and closed it. He took a good, long hard look at himself in the mirror. Although he had come a long way from being a drug addict, part of him felt as though he wasn't quite _there_ just yet.

Mike walked back into the room he shared with Susan. He bent down and gently pulled some of her hair off her sleeping face. He sat on the bed, pausing for about two minutes, before pulling open the bed stand door. He had to check and see if it was still there. He softly lifted all the clothes and bras up—and sure enough, there it was. His gun. He had been advised by an acquaintance of his while packing up for Eden Lodge to take it in case any mountain lions came along and threatened to spoil everyone's good fun.

"What they don't know won't hurt them," muttered Mike softly. He turned to look at the clock.

Midnight.

But it wouldn't be a happy 2008 for everyone…

**A/N: Wow, another update within twenty-four hours! It seems as though I do nothing but sit at my laptop all day and write! (Which is sort of true, lol!) A major factor that's helping me move the story along is that I planned out ahead of time what would happen in each chapter instead of making it up as I go along. I also write certain chapters I'm not due for just yet or at least the beginning of them so when I finally get there, I'm not stuck coming up with inspiration before it finally hits me six months later, unlike one of my 'Kim Possible' stories! I'm sure Agatha Christie used a similar method when writing her books (particularly 'And Then There Were None' because she went through, as she puts it in her autobiography, "a tremendous amount of planning" before finally writing the darn thing). Anyway, enough of my blabbing; I just thought you might be curious as to why I'm updating so quickly as some writers take a bit longer to update (not that you don't mind, of course!).**

**Thank you once again for your reviews!**


	8. One overslept himself

8

One overslept himself…

The sun bathed the house in a golden glow as it slowly rose the next morning and woke the people inside Eden Lodge up (those who were still alive, that is).

Gabrielle was the first to wake up. She yawned and slowly moved her legs out of bed before the rest of her body followed suite.

_It's 2008,_ she suddenly realized. _It's the first day of the new year. It's kind of strange how Carlos and I survived to see 2008—and Edie didn't._

"Hey, sexy."

Gabrielle caught Carlos playfully tugging at the hem of her skimpy red lingerie. "Hey, yourself," she replied coyly. "Happy 2008."

"That's right; I didn't realize it was 2008," said Carlos. "Edie's death had me—preoccupied."

"Yeah," said Gabrielle softly. "What do you say we go down for breakfast? I think the others are up."

"What time is it, anyway?" wondered Carlos. He and Gabrielle hadn't brought their own digital clock, but there was an old-fashioned wooden clock on the wall. He tried to check the time with that and it had both hands on twelve.

"_Noon?_" said Carlos, frowning. "We couldn't have slept _that_ late."

"I don't think so, either," said Gabrielle. "I think I brought my watch with me; hold on a minute." She opened up her nightstand drawer and picked up her watch. It, too, read twelve.

"I guess it must be noon," shrugged Gabrielle.

"Or not," said Carlos. He pointed at the wooden clock. "Look. The smaller hand that makes the seconds go by is stopped on twelve as well."

They looked at each other nervously. "How about we just go down for breakfast?" said Gabrielle nervously.

"Good idea," said Carlos quickly.

The two threw on their bathrobes and walked out of their room, only to be greeted by Bree.

"Good morning, Gabrielle and Carlos," she said cheerfully. "Do either of you have the time?"

"You mean _your_ clock's busted, too?" said Gabrielle, surprised.

"Yes," said Bree. "It stopped right at twelve."

"Ours too," said Gabrielle.

"Strange," muttered Bree. "What about your watch?"

"It's stopped at twelve, too."

"My clock was working last night. You don't think…?"

It was at this moment Susan and Mike came out of their room. "Happy 2008," said Susan cheerfully. "Do any of you know what time it is? What?" she asked when everyone blanched.

"Oh no," groaned Mike. "Don't tell me: _Your_ clocks are stopped at twelve too, including your watches."

"You got it," said Gabrielle.

"That's us too," said Lynette, who had already come out of her and Tom's room with Tom.

"Okay," said Gabrielle. "This is getting creepy."

Suddenly, a loud shriek was heard. Everyone looked up. What happened?

"That sounded like it came from Katherine and Adam's room!" said Bree.

Everyone quickly ran down the hall to the door that led to Katherine and Adam's room. They opened the door, ran in, and found Katherine sobbing hysterically, holding a limp Adam.

"Katherine, what's wrong?" asked Bree.

Katherine looked up. She screamed, "What's wrong? WHAT'S WRONG? My husband is _dead,_ that's what's wrong!"

"**Dead?**" asked Susan. "What happened?"

"I—I don't know," sobbed Katherine. "He was fine when we went to bed. He said he loved me and went to sleep and so did I. I woke up a few minutes ago and tried waking Adam up, but he refused to wake up and—and—I felt his pulse and—" The hysterical crying resumed.

As much as she hated Katherine, Bree felt a surge of compassion rise within her, for she remembered all too well the pain she felt upon learning of Rex's death. She gently said, "I'm sure there's an explanation for this. Did he have anything to eat or drink last night—aside from dinner?"

Katherine sniffled, "W—well, Adam sometimes has trouble sleeping, s—so he takes a few sleeping pills. I—I guess this time…it was too much. You—you don't think he took them on _purpose,_ do you?"

Gabrielle raised her eyebrows. "_Two_ suicides within twelve hours? That sounds like a weird coincidence. I mean, if Edie hadn't killed herself the night before, I'd be able to believe it, but _two?_"

"Maybe he accidentally took an overdose," suggested Bree. "Sometimes, when most people are really tired, they forget how much they took and—"

"HE'S A DOCTOR; HE'D **KNOW** WHEN ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!" shrieked Katherine. She went back to sob mode.

"Where's Carlos?" said Susan suddenly.

This was when they realized Carlos had walked out of the room at one point or another. "Maybe he's preparing breakfast," suggested Lynette.

As if on cue, Carlos came running back, panting. "Guys," he panted. "I'm afraid I have made a rather…strange discovery while going down to the dining room to make some breakfast. Remember that centerpiece with those ten Indian boys on it? Well, I checked it out while in the dining room…and there's only eight."


	9. Teamwork

9

Teamwork

"Only eight?" asked Susan. "But weren't there ten of them the night before?"

"Actually, on my way upstairs last night after…what happened…I peeked into the dining room and saw only nine," spoke up Tom.

"My, my, the plot thickens," said Mike.

Katherine had daggers in her eyes. "You think this is funny?" she asked harshly. "You think my husband dying is _funny?_"

"No, not at all, I'm just saying it's a weird coincidence," said Mike quickly.

"This is too much to take in," sighed Lynette. "I think we should all get dressed and have breakfast first and then discuss the issue at hand."

DHDHDHDHDH

After breakfast, Lynette said, "I've been thinking: Two suicides seem like a strange coincidence. It's like Gabrielle said; if one of them hadn't died, I'd be able to believe it, but both Edie _and_ Adam are dead. It makes me suspicious that neither of their deaths was…accidental, you know?"

"So you're saying that they were…they were…" Gabrielle couldn't bring herself to say the feared word, so Tom finished for her: "Murdered?"

"Basically," said Lynette.

"By Miss Teri Game, I suppose?" asked Mike.

"It wouldn't surprise me," said Lynette. "I was right in thinking that we were invited by an insane, homicidal lunatic."

"Gee, you think?" said Gabrielle sarcastically.

"I just had a sudden thought," said Bree. "There's only eight bedrooms in here for us. It makes me wonder where Miss Game was going to sleep."

"That's just what I was thinking, Bree," said Lynette. "If Miss Game _is_ here, she has to be hiding somewhere, so here's my plan: We'll go into two separate groups of four and search the entire house top to bottom for Miss Game. If we can't find her in here, we'll search for her outside. And Katherine," she smiled, "when we get her and make her pay, you can go first."

"I would very much appreciate that," said Katherine in an expressionless voice.

"Wow, that's actually a great plan," said Gabrielle.

"I get my planning skills from all those years of being a mom," shrugged Lynette.

"How do we know which group to go into?" asked Susan. "Do we draw straws or something?"

Lynette stared at Susan. "That's not a bad idea, actually," she said.

"What?" said Susan, startled. "I was just saying…"

But Lynette had already reached for the bowl of straws that was just to the left of the Indian Boys centerpiece that only had eight little Indians. She took out eight straws and used her knife to cut off the bottom half of four of them. She held them in her left hand and said, "Those who get the longest straws go to Group One, and vice versa. Agreed?"

Everyone wordlessly got out of their seats, walked up to Lynette, and each took a straw from her hand.

"I have a short straw," called out Bree. "Does anyone else have a short—straw," she said flatly when she saw Katherine also holding a short straw.

"Oh God," muttered Katherine.

"I have a short straw!" squealed Susan. She ran up to Katherine and said, "Isn't this great? You and I are on the same team together—I mean, this is bad, this is very bad," she said quickly when she saw the annoyed look on Bree's face.

"Hey, you three ladies still have me," said Tom, who walked up to the three women. "My only regret is that Lynette and I aren't in the same group together."

"I'm sure we'll run into each other while searching, sweetie," said Lynette. She then repeated her two-finger-whistle trick from the night before and said in the manner of a military officer, "Miss Teri Game can run, but she cannot _hide. _The one thing she didn't stop to think about was that we'd eventually find her. One way or another, we _will_ find her and make her pay. Any questions? Yes, Susan."

"What are we going to do with Teri Game when we actually find her?" asked Susan.

"I say we tie her up and stone her to death," said Katherine coldly.

Lynette nodded weakly. "Good plan. Everybody…_SPREAD OUT!_"

And so, the search for Miss Teri Game began, unbeknownst to everybody that their efforts would be fruitless…


	10. One said he'd stay there

10

One said he'd stay there…

The first place Group One (Lynette, Gabrielle, Mike, and Carlos) searched was the second floor with all the bedrooms. The first room they checked was Mike and Susan's bedroom. They searched under the bed, in the bathroom, and the closet—but no sign of Miss Teri Game.

"Well, then, she's probably in the next room," said Mike quickly. "Let's go."

"Wait a minute," said Gabrielle. She slowly picked up Mike's gun from one of the drawers and asked, "Whose is this?"

Mike muttered something under his breath.

"What was that?" said Carlos.

"I said it's mine," said Mike more loudly. "I was advised by a friend to bring it in case there were any mountain lions."

"Likely story," sneered Carlos.

"Well, it's the truth!" said Mike defensively.

"How do we know you're not lying?" inquired Lynette.

"You'll just have to trust me!" snapped Mike. "How about I bring my gun with me? That way, if Miss Game tries to harm us, I can shoot her and therefore prove I'm not out to harm any of you."

"Just as long as you don't use it on _us,_" said Gabrielle nervously.

"Why would I?" asked Mike, even though everyone was putting him in the mood to.

"Never mind," said Gabrielle quickly, who decided she was better off keeping her mouth shut.

DHDHDHDHDH

Meanwhile, Group Two (Bree, Katherine, Susan, and Tom) was searching the basement. Earlier, they had searched the kitchen, parlour, dining room, _and _the bedrooms as well as the bathrooms—and found nothing.

"This is ridiculous," said Bree, who bent down and peered under the stairs. "You'd think we'd find Miss Game by now."

"She must be a really good hider," said Susan, who lifted up the lid of one of the barrels.

"I'll say," said Katherine, who used her flashlight to look in the dark corners.

"Good grief, Miss Game makes my kids look like amateurs at hide-and-seek," commented Tom, who lifted up the lid of a brightly coloured toy chest that had red drums around it.

At that moment, Group One arrived down the stairs almost without warning, which was why Susan nearly jumped a foot in the air when Lynette said, "You guys find anything?"

"Geez, Lynette, don't sneak up on me like that!" exclaimed Susan. "You could've killed me!" She paused. "That wasn't a very appropriate comment," she quickly said.

Lynette laughed. "It's all right. In a situation like this, who wouldn't get riled up? So did you find anything?"

"No," said Bree, shaking her head. "We found no one. And we've searched all the other rooms."

"So have we," said Lynette. "I'm beginning to get a little worried."

"What if Miss Game is outside?" suggested Gabrielle. "What if she has a little hiding place somewhere?"

"Good point, Gaby," said Carlos. "If Miss Game isn't _in_side, she must be _out_side."

"Why don't you guys go ahead?" said Lynette. "I'll continue to search the basement in case she's hiding herself somewhere in here."

"Are you sure?" asked Tom. "What if she's dangerous?"

"Tom, I'll be just fine," assured Lynette. "If I'm not up within fifteen minutes, send someone down here, okay?"

"Or how about we all split up and search in different rooms and two or three of us will search outside?" suggested Gabrielle.

"Great idea," said Lynette. "You all do just that; I'll continue to look down here. And sweetie," she walked up to Tom and planted a kiss on his lips, "don't you worry your head off about a thing. I'm a tough girl. If I can beat cancer, I can beat a lunatic."

"If you say so," said Tom nervously. "But just so you know, if anything happens, I love you."

"I love you, too," said Lynette softly. "See you later, Tom."

"Bye," said Tom as he headed upstairs with everyone else.

Lynette stared wistfully at everyone else walking upstairs. Tom was the last to leave. He began to close the door, but stopped and took one last look at Lynette before closing it.

This was a very emotional moment for Lynette. Tears poured down her face, but she was able to shake them off and began to search the basement. She searched every nook and cranny and looked through every cupboard and container—but still nothing. She got so caught up in her search, she didn't even hear the door slowly creak open and shut…

She did, however, hear the echoing footsteps. The sound made the blood in her veins turn to ice. She spun around and nervously called out, "Who's there?"

"Don't play games with me, Lynette; you know it's me," said an all-too familiar voice accompanied by the outline of someone whom Lynette recognized.

Lynette slowly backed up, but tripped over her feet. She let out a blood-curdling scream, hoping someone from upstairs would hear her and run downstairs to rescue her from this horrible fate.

Someone did eventually come down the stairs and it was Gabrielle—but she got there too late. Lynette had been tied to the wall and stabbed right through the heart…


	11. One of Us

11

One of Us

After laying Lynette's body with Edie's and Adam's (they had placed Adam's body with Edie's earlier so Katherine wouldn't have to sleep with a dead body every night), everyone gathered in the parlour room to discuss the deaths.

"So it couldn't have been an accident or suicide, huh," said Susan, who was shaking.

"Not unless Lynette somehow tied herself to the wall and rigged a trap for the knife to go straight into her chest," said Carlos. "And we all know people don't commit suicide like that."

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that the first two deaths were murder as well," spoke up Mike.

"One suicide, one accident, **and** one murder is too much to swallow, so yeah; that seems highly likely," said Gabrielle.

Tom let out a dry laugh, causing everyone to jump. "Highly likely?" he said. "Highly likely? My wife was murdered along with Katherine's husband and Edie and you're saying three murders seem 'highly likely'?!?"

"Calm down, Tom," said Katherine, who got up and put one hand on Tom's shoulder. "I'm every bit as pissed off about my loved one's murder as you are about yours, but we have to stay calm; if we lose our cool, the murderer will be more likely to get us since we're not thinking clearly."

"Katherine's right; we've got to keep it together or we won't stand a chance," said Carlos.

At that moment, Mike, who had gone to the dining room, came running back. "Guys," he panted. "Another Indian has been broken off."

"One said he'd stay there, and then there were seven," said Bree, who had been quiet up until now.

"That's another thing," said Carlos. "These murders seem to be following that nursery rhyme on that CD. Edie died from having 'choked herself'. Adam 'overslept himself' with a vengeance. Lynette was tied down when she was killed, so she 'stayed there'."

"And don't forget the china figurines of those Indian boys," spoke up Gabrielle. "Whenever one of us dies, one of those Indians is broken off."

"Or the cable," said Susan. "I'm beginning to think that it _was_ chopped off!"

"This is insane," said Tom, shaking his head. "I don't believe this."

"You're not alone," said Katherine. "I can't believe this myself. Why would someone do something like this?"

"Isn't it obvious?" said Bree. "Miss Teri Game believes we are all sinful people who deserve to be punished and is carrying out that punishment."

Tom shuddered. "I've heard of some lunatics who take the justice system a little too seriously, but I never thought I'd actually **meet** someone like that."

"Well, technically speaking, none of us have really met Miss Teri Game," said Bree.

Gabrielle laughed.

Everyone stared at her.

"Don't you get it?!?" cried Gabrielle. "We searched every inch of the lodge and we found no one and it's highly unlikely anyone is hiding outside in **this** weather since there's a raging blizzard outside! Plus, there are only enough rooms for us and no room for Teri Game to sleep. And finally, there's the fact that none of us recall meeting someone with the name Miss Teri Game."

Gabrielle paused and looked around the room, waiting for someone to speak. No one did. She said darkly, "You know what this means don't you? _Miss Teri Game is one of us._"

**A/N: Dun, dun, DUN. So who do you think the murderer is? There's no penalty for guessing wrong just so you know.**


	12. The Suspected

12

The Suspected

"Do you really think it's true?" asked Bree. "About the murderer being one of us?"

After Gabrielle's statement, everyone decided for the next couple hours until supper (who knew if it was noon or three-thirty?) to talk in the parlour room.

"What other explanation _is_ there?" asked Gabrielle. "We're all being struck down by the wrath of God? And we all know God has decided to leave punishment of criminals to us mortals."

Bree lowered her voice to a whisper: "If—if it _is_ one of us—who do you think it is?"

"Do you mean to say you suspect me?" asked Gabrielle.

"No, not at all," said Bree quickly. "I mean, I believe no one in this house is above suspicion, but you're not my number one suspect."

"Good," said Gabrielle. "Now that that's cleared up, I suspect…Katherine. What do we _really_ know about her? All we know is that her ex-husband did something that the 'worst father in the world' could ever do. But did he _really_ do anything? Or did she kill her husband and was that the reason why she moved away? And did she have to move back because someone in Chicago found out what happened?"

"Interesting theory," mused Bree, "but why would she kill her husband?"

"Maybe Adam found out about his wife killing Edie so she killed him, or maybe she's just crazy—who knows?" shrugged Gabrielle. "She's been trying to out-do you in the perfection field. Is that because she wants to make up for her misdeeds in the past? _And_ two of the victims have been poisoned. That points to someone who would have at least _some_ medical knowledge due to being married to someone who's a doctor. What about you? Who do you think it is?"

Without the slightest bit of hesitation, Bree answered, "Mike Delfino."

"Really?" asked Gabrielle. "Why?"

"His ex-girlfriend was a drug dealer, so he, too, would know how fast certain types of drugs could kill someone," pointed out Bree. "And although Susan **says** Mike is better now because he's in rehab to treat his drug addiction, there's a part of me that's not sure he's truly over it. Maybe he got so desperate for more drugs, he decided to somehow get Mrs. McCluskey to record those accusations so all suspicion would fall on the women and not him, then he lured us here with those invitations so he could kill his wife; that way, the money in the will would go over to him and he'd use that money to buy more drugs. The purpose of murdering the rest of us would be to plant a red herring, to throw us off track and trick us into thinking his drug addiction has nothing to do with this."

"Well, I've known super models who went to extreme measures to get more rapid weight loss drugs, but I don't think even a drug addict would go _that_ extreme," said Gabrielle.

"Trust me, Gaby; when you develop an addiction, you barely stop to think about how you're hurting those you love," said Bree softly, reflecting on her own days of alcoholism.

"Now that I think about it, there _is_ something suspicious about Mike my group discovered this morning," said Gabrielle slowly.

"What?" asked Bree.

"While we were searching his and Susan's room, I found a gun in his drawer."

Bree's eyebrows shot up. "Really?" she asked. "Well, that pretty much confirms nearly everything I just said. Oh, and there's one more thing: Although some of us—myself included—admitted to only part of our accusations whilst others completely denied it, Mike all but admitted it. He'd only do that _if there was nothing to fear._ Or it could be a double-bluff: Plead that he is guilty so we assume his innocence."

Gabrielle raised her eyebrows. "You know, that's a really good point of yours." She looked over at Carlos, Tom, and Mike who were all sitting on the couch, talking to each other about something. She silently wondered what Bree would say if she knew.

"You think it's one of the women, huh?" asked Tom.

"Yes," said Carlos. "It's Susan. I have no doubt about it."

"Why Susan?" asked Mike. "She would never harm a fly."

"That's exactly why she's suspicious," reasoned Carlos. "She's not very bright and is also caring. What could be a better combination for a murderer to hide their tracks?"

"Give me one good reason why Susan would do this," said Mike in an almost threatening tone.

Since Carlos was just as good a fighter as Mike and therefore unafraid of Mike's reaction, he calmly said, "Maybe she has a hidden motive for hating Lynette or Adam that I cannot figure out, but she and Edie, judging from what Gaby told me, have never got on well. It's possible that she got so over-confident from murdering Edie, she decided to kill the others just for the hell of it."

Sensing that Mike was about go in for the kill, Tom said, "Want to know whom **I** think is the killer?"

"We probably don't, but you're going to tell us anyway," muttered Carlos.

"I think it's Gabrielle," said Tom. "She's not the sharpest tool in the shed, and yet she somehow figured out the murderer being one of us before we did. Why? Was it because she knew what was going to happen? And if so, how?"

Carlos clenched his fists. "Why on Earth would Gabrielle want to kill us?" he asked angrily.

"I overheard the three of you talking to Edie when we arrived," said Tom. "She threatened to reveal to Gabrielle's husband where you really were. That gives her a good enough motive, don't you think?"

"All right, fine, so maybe she _did_ have a motive for killing Edie, but why the others?" challenged Carlos.

"Maybe she went crazy and thought everyone else would reveal her whereabouts to Victor, so she decided to do away with them as well," suggested Tom.

"But where would she get the CD or any of the other weapons from?" challenged Carlos. "I highly doubt any of these murders were a spur-of-the-moment deal."

"What about you, Mike?" said Tom, turning to Mike. "Who do you think is killing the others and why?"

"You really want to know?" asked Mike.

"Of course we do," said Tom.

"All right then: I don't trust you one bit, _Tom,_" announced Mike.

Tom blinked then laughed. "So you think it's _me_?" he asked.

"You heard me," said Mike. "You and Lynette may have been in on this from the beginning and when Lynette threatened to betray you by searching the house for Miss Teri Game, you decided to kill her. Your motive may have been that you and Lynette didn't want your children to grow up around poor role models such as us—in your eyes, anyway—and you took it too far."

"So you think I'm insane, do you?" said Tom, a twisted smile spreading across his face.

"Indeed I do," nodded Mike.

Tom laughed. "Nice to know you're being so blunt about it. Other people would've kept their mouths shut. Aren't you afraid I'll come after you now that I know you suspect me?"

"As long as I have my gun with me, I'm perfectly safe," Mike coolly replied.

"Wait, you have a _gun?_" asked Tom. "Why didn't you say something?"

"Nobody asked me," shrugged Mike.

"You have a point," said Tom. "Asking people if they have a gun isn't really considered to be proper etiquette."

"Nice to see _you_ think this is funny," muttered Carlos.

Meanwhile, in a faraway corner of the room, Susan and Katherine were talking.

"I'm telling you, it's got to be Carlos," whispered Susan furiously. "I don't have a good feeling about him for one matter. And for another, I was talking to Tom earlier and he said that he overheard Edie talking to Carlos and Gabrielle and he thinks Edie was blackmailing them."

"But there's just one problem with that theory," said Katherine. "Carlos may have a motive to kill Edie, but why the others?"

"Well, Lynette said it's a maniac, isn't that motive enough?" asked Susan.

"Even maniacs have motives that make sense to _them,_" pointed out Katherine.

"Possibly," said Susan. "Not being one, I wouldn't have an opinion on that. What about you? Who do you think it is?"

"Bree Hodge," Katherine replied instantly. "I know the two of you have always been friends, but don't you think she's a little…self-righteous? She strikes me as the type of person who wants everything to be perfect and it's possible that after all those years of making sure there were no messy details behind, her brain might snap and she might want to take it one step further and purge the world of all sinners."

"I really don't know _what_ to think right now," muttered Susan. "But that's a good theory of yours nonetheless."

Everyone continued to discuss their suspicions until they eventually changed the topics to something else, such as neighbourhood gossip. Eventually, it was dinner time. The main course? Suspicion.

"Here, Katherine, have some of my leftover homemade chicken," said Bree cheerfully.

"Er, no thank you," said Katherine, who stared into her wine glass.

"Oh well," shrugged Bree. She slowly walked over to Mike's table. "Mike, would you care to have some of my delicious, homemade chicken?" she asked in an almost too cheerful voice.

"Don't mind if I do," said Mike. He picked up a fork and began to move it toward the platter containing the chicken, but Bree backed up slightly and said, "How about I serve it to you? It'll be less messy."

"Sure thing," shrugged Mike. As the chicken was served to him, he felt someone's eyes make contact with his neck. He turned to look at Tom. If looks could kill, both of them would've been dead. Tom turned away.

"Would you like some of my spaghetti, Tom?" asked Gabrielle.

"Ah, thanks, but no thanks," said Tom quickly.

"Oh," said Gabrielle. "Need some time to recover from your wife's death, huh?"

"When do any of us have time to recover from anything at all?" muttered Tom.

Gabrielle shrugged. She turned to look at the person who was sitting in front of her, which was Katherine. She averted her eyes to her spaghetti.

Carlos gently stroked Gabrielle's hand, calming her down. He turned to Susan and whispered, "If you lay just one finger on my wife, I'll kill you."

"Interesting choice of words," replied Susan coolly.

Dinner was semi-peaceful. Although no one died, there was a tension amongst the group that was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. A rather ironic metaphor, considering the events of the next chapter…

**A/N: So, after reading this chapter, have your suspicions changed, or do you still think so-and-so did it? Also, I included a small bit of dialogue from the game version of ATTWN when the characters are discussing their suspicions; see if you can find it!**


	13. One chopped himself in halves

13

One chopped himself in halves…

It was somewhere between 3:00 AM and 5:00 AM.

Mike woke up with a start. It suddenly occurred to him. It had been building up in the back of his head for quite some time, but it wasn't until now he fully understood It. He gave his sleeping wife a kiss and slowly got out of bed. He opened up his drawer, took out his gun, softly walked across the floor, gently opened the door, and closed it behind him without making a sound. This was not going to be easy, but it was something he had to do.

Mike silently walked down the stairs, unaware that a pair of two greedy, malicious eyes was watching him hungrily…

DHDHDHDHDH

Tom had been unable to sleep for quite some time. He had eventually fallen asleep, but woke up two (three?) hours ago and was unable to get back to sleep ever since. A nagging voice in his head kept telling him, _You know this could get messy, but so what? As soon as you get back home, you can leave it all behind you and no one will ever know!_

Tom sighed. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew the voice was right.

DHDHDHDHDH

It was somewhere between 8:00 AM and 10:30 AM.

Bree woke up with an uneasy feeling. Something had happened—but _what?_

She sat up in her bed and looked out the window. The blizzard had settled down—but that wasn't it. The sky was a particular shade of grey—no, that wasn't it, either.

Whatever it was, Bree got out of bed and put on her bathrobe. She gave her hair a quick brush and walked out of her bedroom with the most dignified walk she could muster up. Inside, she was terrified, but all her life, she had been taught to never, ever show emotion. "Stop your snivelling; a scraped knee that doesn't hurt _that_ badly," snapped the cruel voice of her stepmother in her head. "Now, now, Bree, do you think your mother would want to see you cry?" asked the kind, gentle voice of her father.

Bree stepped out and noticed nearly everyone was up and about. She greeted Susan with, "Good morning, Susan. My, isn't it a lovely day?"

"Have you seen Mike?" asked Susan.

"Since last night? No. Why?" asked Bree.

"Because I woke up this morning and he wasn't there," replied Susan. "I've already asked the other people standing here before me." She paused before saying, "You don't think the killer got _him,_ do you?"

"Nah," said Gabrielle, shaking her head. "Mike's a tough guy; I'm sure if anyone tried to kill him, they'd be the dead one."

"Wait, where's Tom?" asked Carlos. "I knocked on his bedroom door this morning and he wasn't there."

"Oh God," sighed Katherine. "So either Mike killed Tom, or Tom killed Mike."

Deciding that there was little time to waste, the five of them ran down the stairs—and nearly ran straight into Tom, who had just come out of Edie's room (aka, the dead bodies room). "Good morning," he said almost too cheerfully.

"Good morning my _ass,_" growled Susan. "What did you do to Mike?"

"Who said I did anything to Mike?" said Tom innocently. "All I did was place my wedding ring with Lynette, so a part of me would always be with her."

"Likely story," muttered Susan.

"You know, Tom, I think it's just a tad suspicious that Mike goes missing the day after he tells you _you're_ his prime suspect," pointed out Carlos.

"I'm sure there's a logical explanation behind it," said Tom, rolling his eyes.

"Wait," said Bree suddenly. "The dining room! Has anyone checked the Indian boys?"

"No," said Tom slowly. "But now I wish I had."

They all rushed to the dining room. Susan was the one to count how many Indians were left: "One…two…three…four…five…six." She froze. Only six Indian boys left. This could only mean that Mike…

"Was that toy chest here before?" asked Gabrielle suddenly, pointing to the same toy chest that was in the basement the day before.

"No," said Bree slowly. "But I recall seeing it when we were all looking for Miss Game."

"I think we should continue to look for Mike instead of wasting our time with that toy chest," spoke up Carlos.

"No," said Bree, who took a few steps forward. "Something tells me we should look. We'll take one quick look and resume our search for Mike." She slowly walked up to the toy chest, the others trailing behind her. She stopped when she got to it. There was a note taped to it that said 'Open Me'.

Bree obeyed—and screamed. She had just found Mike Delfino—hacked into pieces…


	14. Friend Against Friend

14

Friend Against Friend

"Dead, I assume?" asked Tom.

"Yes, we wouldn't need Adam to tell us _that,_" said Katherine.

"Or to tell us the cause of death," said Carlos. He looked into Mike's eyes which had a sheer look of terror on them and sighed sadly and shook his head. "Poor guy. He must've gone through a lot of suffering right before he died."

Bree held a hand to her mouth, but it wasn't enough. She was overcome by waves upon waves of nausea that overwhelmed her, threatening to bring whatever she had last night back up. She tried to make it to the doors, but didn't; she vomited right near the seat she usually sat at while eating. She tried to stop herself, but couldn't, and felt humiliated, feeling the eyes of everyone on the back of her neck.

Tom and Carlos began to walk up to Bree to help her up, but they stopped when they heard giggling. They turned around and saw Susan giggling like a maniac. "You know, this is actually kind of funny," she giggled. "Seven little Indian boys chopping up sticks, one chopped himself in halves and then there were six!"

"Susan," said Bree sternly, composing herself. She slowly stood up and said, "Your husband just died a horrible death. Aren't you horrified?"

"Horrified? No. Hysterical? Yes!" laughed Susan. "Don't you get it Bree? Don't you all get it? These murders _are_ being done according to that stupid poem on that CD!"

Bree couldn't believe it. Susan's husband had just died. The man whom Susan nearly killed herself trying to win over the affections of had just died. The man who fathered her unborn child had just died. And here she was, laughing. Just _laughing._ "I am perfectly aware of what's happening," said Bree, walking up to Susan. "And yes, I figured out these murders were happening in accordance to that damn poem a long time ago!" Her voice was becoming shrill.

"That's what I'm saying!" laughed Susan. "Mike has been _chopped in halves!_ Ha-ha-ha-ha! So tell me this, Bree: Do you know if there are any bees out there in this weather? Ha-ha!"

"I get it Susan," said Bree, her voice growing louder and shriller. "I realize that the next victim will get stung by a bee, but for God's sakes, would you STOP LAUGHING? YOUR HUSBAND _DIED!_ DO YOU THINK KATHERINE OR TOM THINKS THE FACT THAT THEIR LOVED ONES ARE DEAD IS _FUNNY?!?_ WAS **I** LAUGHING WHEN REX DIED?!?"

"I don't know, were you?" giggled Susan.

Finally, Katherine couldn't take Susan's hysterical laughing and Bree's hysterical shrieking. She marched up to the both of them and slapped the laughing Susan.

"GOOD TO KNOW _SOMEONE_ AGREES WITH ME!" shrieked Bree.

Katherine gave Bree a good slap across the face as well.

"Thank you," said Bree meekly. "We both needed that."

"Don't mention it," muttered Katherine. "Besides, I've always wanted to do that to you, Bree."

"I—I think we should get dressed," said Susan weakly.

Susan, Bree, and Carlos, all of whom were still in their bathrobes, went upstairs silently to get dressed. When they were gone, Gabrielle said sarcastically, "Great job on handling that one, Katherine."

"I know resorting to slapping is harsh, but I had to," said Katherine apologetically. "It's bad enough that we're all losing the people we love. We can't cope with hysteria on top of that, too."

"I'm surprised," said Tom. "I mean, it would be typical for someone like Susan to react badly in a situation like this, but _laughing?_ And it's _especially_ out of character for Bree of all people to be shrieking hysterically."

"Actually, Adam would say that reactions like this are perfectly normal," said Katherine. "It's just the shock."

"Then how come none of us are reacting in a similar way?" asked Gabrielle.

"A nasty shock like the one we received just now affects different people in different ways," shrugged Katherine. She wrinkled her nose. Bree's vomit was beginning to smell. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go clean that up," she said. As she went to get a mop and bucket, Carlos walked into the room, fully dressed with a sombre look on his face.

"Carlos?" asked Gabrielle, worried. "What's wrong?"

"Gabrielle," said Carlos slowly, "was this," he held a blood-soaked butcher's knife, "in our dresser before?"

"N—no," stammered Gabrielle, who was beginning to feel a bit more than freaked out. "Not that I recall."

"What an amazing coincidence," said Bree, who walked in fully dressed as well. "I found this in my drawer, too." She held up a blood-soaked dagger.

"And me," said Susan, who followed after Bree. This time, her blood-soaked knife was a garden variety steak knife.


	15. A bumblebee stung one

15

A bumblebee stung one…

Breakfast was served in silence. It was inconceivable that only two days ago, all ten of them were sitting around the table chatting and gossiping. Now there were only six of them—minus their loved ones.

"More bacon, Carlos?"

"Why thank you, Gaby."

"Would you like some English tea?"

"Don't mind if I do."

Outside, the wind shrieked and moaned like a sick child, causing the remaining six to briefly jump in their seats.

Bree spoke up: "I don't think I can sit here one second longer. I think I'll go to the parlour room and just read."

"In that case, we'll all go with you," spoke up Tom.

"I don't need everyone following me like a pack of sheep," replied Bree coldly. "Besides, the only real danger is if two of us go at a time. As long as the rest of you stick together, I'm perfectly safe."

"Everything has to be perfect with you, doesn't it Bree," muttered Susan.

Bree glared at Susan, but said nothing and walked to the parlour room, only there was something different about her walk. It looked slightly less dignified than it did when she first arrived. In fact, it even looked a bit fearful. Fearful, but still dignified.

Susan kept staring at the toy chest that contained her former husband's remains. "I loved Mike, you know," she said softly. "I think I should be the one to carry the toy chest to the room the dead bodies are being stashed now."

"We'll go with you, if you don't mind," said Carlos, standing up.

Susan stared at Carlos. "Do you think I'm going to kill Bree?" she asked angrily.

"Look, I personally think you wouldn't hurt a fly, but we can't take any chances," said Carlos. He began to move towards the toy chest, but Susan stopped him and practically yelled, "He was MY husband, God damn it, so excuse me for wanting to spend one last moment with him even though he's DEAD!" She sank back down in her chair and slowly began to cry.

"This is too much for me to handle," said Gabrielle as she stood up. "I'm going outside to clear my head. And okay, you can all come with me if you want."

"I've a suggestion: How about you and Susan carry the toy chest to Edie's room and I'll go with the both of you?" suggested Tom.

Susan gave a grunt. Gabrielle just shrugged.

"I'll take that as a yes," said Tom in a somewhat unnatural voice.

Gabrielle and Susan silently walked up to the toy chest, bent down, and lifted it up. They lifelessly carried it out of the dining room and straight to the dead bodies room, with Tom following them in the same lifeless tone.

Back in the dining room, everyone silently got up and walked to one of three places: Their rooms, the parlour room, or the kitchen to clean up.

Tom's eyes nervously darted amongst all the guests. They were staring at him—every last one. They'd deny it if he asked them, of course, but he just _knew._ There was no question of whether he _thought_ they were staring at him; he just _knew._ They all suspected him; there was no doubt about that. It was going wrong—all of it was going wrong. And if he didn't act now, they would all team up together to have him locked away…

DHDHDHDHDH

Katherine nervously fidgeted in her parlour room chair. Would any of them _guess?_ Did any of them _know?_ She certainly _hoped _none of them knew. Everything would fall apart if they knew. And she especially couldn't let Bree know. Bree would tell the others—and it would all be over. Well, she wasn't going to let that happen, not on her life…

DHDHDHDHDH

The first thing Gabrielle did as soon as she stepped outside was take a deep breath of fresh air. It had been two days since she last took a step outside and was thankful for getting to go outside. In there, it was a zoo. The so-called 'people' were like hungry, wild animals that stared at you intently, as though you were going to be that animal's next prey. Going outside was like taking a small step back into civilization. It reminded her of life back on Wisteria Lane: Poker nights with the girls, make-up sex with Carlos, the soft, gentle feeling of John's arms around her…

Gabrielle's train of thought was cut off by the snap of a twig. She paused. After standing there for about a minute or two, Gabrielle decided to walk up the path to the pine trees. Someone was there. She could see it. She brushed some of the lace white snow off the pine needles—and to her relief, it was someone she trusted. Or _thought_ she could trust.

Gabrielle sighed, "Oh, it's you. I don't know why you'd be _here_ of all places, but this is nice."

"I think you know perfectly well why I'm here, Gabrielle," said the person standing in front of Gabrielle, with a malicious grin slowly spreading across their face.

Gabrielle blanched. "No," she said slowly, looking for a way out. "NO!"

"Oh yes," laughed the murderer.

Her heart pounding in her ears, Gabrielle somehow picked up her feet and ran back to the lodge, hoping desperately for someone—anyone—to see the murderer in plain sight. She didn't even bother looking back to see if the sounds she heard behind her were her own footsteps or those of an insane killer bent on delivering a cruel death to his or her victim.

Finally, she made it back. To her relief, she saw the cellar door which promised to become her sanctuary from the insane killer. Without thinking twice, Gabrielle opened the doors, went down two steps and closed them behind her. She continued to run down the steps—

--only to hear the buzzing of what sounded like a million bees swarming towards her, pricking her skin. Gabrielle gasped in horror—and a bee stung her in the throat. Tears watered in her eyes. How did the murderer know about her bee allergy? How--?

There was an unbearable, agonizing pain all over Gabrielle's body, the feeling of a thousand daggers being thrust into her—and then nothing. Gabrielle fell to the floor like a limp rag. Her eyes were puffy and swollen and her once beautiful face was painted with horrible, swelling welts. This was how Carlos found her five minutes later.

**A/N: I admit I had to take some creative licence with this chapter because there is no mention of Gabrielle being allergic to bees on the show and I didn't want her death to be the same as in the book with the fifth victim because while I wanted some of the deaths to resemble the deaths in the book, I didn't want to all-out copy them. I needed to add some originality! Anyway, there is a new poll on my profile page, just so you know. Don't forget to vote! Also I have written more ATTWN-based stories in case you are interested.**


	16. Distrust

16

Distrust

**A/N: This chapter reveals a bit more about Katherine's past—specifically what happened to Dylan's father. I would like to point out beforehand that we do not know when they'll start making new episodes of DH and therefore I do not know what really happened to Dylan's father, so this is just my theory.**

After placing Gabrielle's body with the others, Susan came out looking nauseated. "They're beginning to smell," she whimpered.

"Oh, suck it up," snapped Bree.

At that moment, Tom came running back from the dining room, but before he had a chance to speak, Bree said, "Don't tell me: Only five Indian boys are left."

"How'd you know?" asked Tom.

"Lucky guess," replied Bree.

"Tom, why is it that you're almost always the first one to know how many Indian boys are left?" asked Katherine.

"Are you _accusing_ me?" asked Tom, looking offended. "Do you think I'd do that—to my _wife?_"

"Actually, I think Katherine makes a good point," said Carlos, moving closer to Tom.

"So you're all against me, is that it?" said Tom, now _sounding_ offended. "You've all made up your minds that I'm a cold blooded killer."

"Tom, Mike was murdered less than twenty-four hours after he told you that you were on the top of his suspect list _and_ you and Mike weren't in your beds this morning," pointed out Carlos. "That definitely makes you look guilty."

"Do you have any proof?" challenged Tom. "Were you able to find any fingerprints on any of those knives?"

Carlos was at a loss for words. Shortly before discovering Gabrielle's body, everyone decided on checking for fingerprints on the knives and were dismayed to find none.

"Didn't think so," smirked Tom. "Except for the dried blood, those knives were cleaned all the way down, weren't they? The killer was obviously seeking Bree's approval."

"I beg your _pardon?_" said Bree angrily.

"You heard me," said Tom, no longer caring about whether his remarks offended everyone around him. "Either the killer didn't want to displease you by getting their hands dirty, or _you_ wanted to keep everything neat and tidy. That is just _so_ typical of you, Bree: You always want every little detail to be perfect and if even just one thing is out of place, you go straight to pieces."

Before Bree could stop herself, she stepped forward and slapped Tom. "How _dare_ you say that about me!" she shrieked. "You don't know anything about me!"

"My wife was friends with you, so I think I know everything there is to know about you," said Tom coldly.

"So Lynette told you all my secrets, did she," said Bree angrily, clenching her fists.

"A few of them," shrugged Tom. "Like what about the time you spanked my sons? Normally, Lynette and I just talk the talk, but for you it wasn't enough to merely _threaten_ a spanking. No, you had to take it one step further and actually _do_ it."

"Shut up, Tom," said Katherine suddenly.

Everyone stared at Katherine, who said in a shaking voice, "Maybe some of us want everything to be perfect because our lives are so crappy, we just want to forget about what happened entirely and make up for it by making sure everything is so God damn _perfect!_" She stopped and ran into the parlour room. Her body slumped onto the couch, her head low and her shoulders sagging.

There was an uncomfortable silence for about a minute before Tom said, "I have a confession to make…I wasn't really placing my ring next to Lynette's body this morning. The truth is…I got up a bit early and decided to wander the house, thinking that the murderer would be up at this time and that maybe, just maybe, I'd be able to catch him or her. I had originally planned on fighting with my fists, but when I walked down the stairs, I nearly tripped over someone's gun. I picked the gun up and took it with me as I went downstairs, ready to use it in case I saw the murderer. When I got to the bottom, I got scared, so I stood there like an idiot for about an hour, holding the gun, until it finally occurred to me that whoever the murderer was, he or she was probably still in bed. I knew it would be incriminating if someone came downstairs and saw me aiming a gun, so I decided to stash the gun in Edie's room in one of the drawers and when I came out…you know the rest."

None of them were quite sure whether or not to believe Tom, so he said, "Still don't believe me? Then follow me. As long as the four of us stick together and Katherine stays where she is, nothing can harm her."

The four of them gingerly walked into the dead bodies room, holding their breath slightly as the stench of rotting corpses filled their nostrils. None of them could bear to look at the victims' faces as they slowly walked up to what would have been Edie's dresser. Tom pulled open the top drawer—and frowned. Nothing was there.

"I must've put it in one of the other drawers," laughed Tom nervously. He opened the next drawer after that one.

Nothing was there.

Tom frantically, like a madman, pulled open the third drawer which had empty contents. "I _swear_ I put it in here _somewhere,_" he said frantically.

"Oh yeah, likely story," sneered Susan.

"I'm serious!" he exclaimed.

"Well, if you did put it in here somewhere, I'm sure it's going to be found," said Bree patiently. "We'll all search this room top to bottom."

They did, and nothing was found. Dismayed and worried, they all decided they would stick together for the rest of the day.

DHDHDHDHDH

It was about three or four hours later when everyone finally decided to prepare supper. Bree and Katherine were the chefs for the night. Carlos' job was to stand directly between the doorway leading to the kitchen and dining room so he could keep an eye on both Bree and Katherine, and Tom and Susan at the same time.

Bree and Katherine decided to settle on cooking salmon since it was the only thing left in the fridge besides canned tongue. The first few minutes of cooking were spent in silence before Bree spoke up: "Katherine…I'd just like to thank you. For standing up for me today."

"Your welcome," said Katherine stiffly. "I know what it's like when you have to put on this façade that everything is perfect when deep down, you're ready to scream to the Heavens." She paused before saying, "Bree…in case we're not rescued in time…there's a confession I'd like to make. About my reasons for moving from Fairview. And if the murderer ever gets me, you have my permission to share this story. Otherwise, this has to remain between you and me, got it?"

Bree nodded.

Katherine looked up at Carlos to make sure he wasn't listening. When she was sure he wasn't, she looked towards Bree and said, "What happened was…my husband came home one night and announced he wanted a divorce because he fell in love with someone else. I was angry, but able to live with it…until he came for Dylan." Now her voice grew hard. "On the night before we were scheduled to go to court and make our separation legal, he said he wanted full custody of Dylan and that if I didn't agree to it, he'd—he'd kidnap her when I least expected it. I pretended to be okay with it and when he started to leave, I—this took place in Dylan's room, you see, and she fell asleep right before my conversation with him and—there was a loose piece of wood in the floor, so I picked it up—and—I—and Dylan—she woke up and—and _saw._ The look on her face—oh my God, how does a mother forget that look?" She was on the verge of tears now. "This was around the same time my Aunt Lillian, who had been visiting, came upstairs and—she was so _kind._ She covered up for me by telling Dylan that her father and I were practicing for a scene in a play we were going to be in that she wrote. And Dylan, God bless her soul, she _believed_ it."

The salmon was starting to burn, so Katherine took a moment to take it off the oven, put it on a plate, and went on: "Although Dylan believed it for the moment, I knew the day would come when she figured it out. I _never_ wanted that day to come. _Ever._ So—so I convinced my Aunt Lillian to—to give Dylan a good knock on the head, not to _kill_ her, mind you; just so she wouldn't remember any of it." She said softly, "I had never been so terrified in my life. I kept thinking, what if this goes wrong and Lillian accidentally kills Dylan? I knew I would never be able to live with myself if I killed Dylan, which was why I got Lillian to do it. Our plan was kicked into motion the next day, but it was briefly interrupted when Susan and Mary Alice came to visit. I distracted them by saying I was moving. I suddenly heard a crash, so I told them it was just the movers and one of them broke a vase. When they left, I went upstairs and—and—and—Dylan, she—she was lying there, and—oh, the _blood._ My God, the _blood!_"

Katherine completely broke down sobbing. Without thinking, she buried her head in Bree's shoulder. Bree gently wrapped her arms around Katherine and gave her a light pat on the back.

"Ladies?" spoke up Carlos. "Is something the matter back there?"

"No, we'll be okay," said Bree quickly. She gently lifted Katherine's head off her shoulder.

"Dylan survived, thank God," said Katherine, left-over tears streaming down her face. "She didn't remember anything. She woke up in a hospital in Chicago and didn't remember any of it. The hospital was where I met Adam, by the way." She sighed, "Since I told you why I had to move _from_ Fairview, I might as well tell you why I moved _back_ to Fairview: Adam had a patient named Sylvia Greene and—"

"Yes, I had a chat with her nearly two months ago," said Bree.

"You did?" asked Katherine. "What did she say?"

"She said she slept with your husband, but don't worry; I don't believe her," said Bree quickly. "For what it's worth, I would've spat in her face, too. She said Adam had a tattoo and I _know_ he doesn't because I saw him at the public pool and I would've remembered if he had a tattoo because tattoo people make me uncomfortable."

A sinking feeling formed in Katherine's stomach. "Was it a snake tattoo?" she asked softly.

"Yes," said Bree slowly. "Why?"

"Adam used to have a snake tattoo," said Katherine softly. "He had it removed. Adam _said_ nothing happened between him and Sylvia, that all he did was give her a little kiss because he felt sorry for her, but she was crazy and sued for sexual assault. Now I realize that was a lie."

There was an uncomfortable silence before Carlos said, "Ladies? Dinner?"

"Oh, right," said Bree and Katherine quickly. Dinner was now finished. The two gently lifted up the salmon and carried it to the dining room in silence. There were no words to say; whatever ill feelings the two women had towards each other were now buried.

DHDHDHDHDH

About fifteen minutes into dinner, the luminous lights suddenly went out, leaving the once gleaming dining room into darkness.

"Oh great," sighed Susan. "_Now_ what are we going to do?"

"Stick together until the lights come back on, I suppose," shrugged Carlos.

"I have a flashlight upstairs in my bedroom," said Katherine. "Bree and I will go get it."

"Mind if I once again act as a stand-between guard and keep one eye on Susan and Tom downstairs while observing you two upstairs?" asked Carlos.

"Be my guest," said Katherine.

The remaining five stood and walked like soldiers out of the dining room. Susan and Tom stood at the bottom of the stairs, Carlos stood right in the middle of the stairs, and Katherine and Bree opened the door to Katherine's room and marched in together.

"Why'd you bring a flashlight?" asked Bree.

"I don't know, my instinct just _told_ me it would be a good idea in case the electricity went out during, say, a snow storm—now look what happened," shrugged Katherine.

"So where did you put it?" asked Bree.

"In my suitcase," said Katherine. She and Bree bent down. Katherine's suitcase lay on the floor beside the bed. Katherine slowly opened the suitcase.

The flashlight was nowhere to be seen.


	17. One got into Chancery

17

One got into Chancery…

"Katherine, what happened to your flashlight?" whispered Bree nervously.

"I don't know," said Katherine, frantically searching through her suitcase. "It _was_ here the last time I checked."

"Great," sighed Bree. "Mike's gun goes missing, the electricity dies out on us, and to top it all off, your flashlight goes missing too. Could this get any worse?"

As if a sign from up above was answering her question, a scream was heard. The scream made Bree and Katherine shoot up. They both scrambled for the door, elbowing each other. Not bothering to check if one was ahead of the other, they each scrambled in different directions.

It was a complete and total madhouse. Everyone kept running in different directions, occasionally bumping into each other only to scream in absolute terror thinking that they were face-to-face with murderer and run as fast as they could. Because it was nearly pitch black, no one could see where they were going or whom they were bumping into, which would be the perfect opportunity to commit a murder…

DHDHDHDHDH

Tom ran into the kitchen when he heard the scream again. He made a mad dash to the pantry and locked the door behind him.

_Now_ it was pitch black.

As a child, Tom had very little fears. He was more scared by, say, the neighbourhood bully than silly darkness. Now, for the first time in his life, he was terrified by the darkness that engulfed him. He let out a scream of bloody terror, wondering if he had more than five seconds to live. He blindly threw his fists into the air and ran around the pantry, his hands up into a fighting position, ready to fight if anyone was in here.

His fists hit not only air, but various shelves and cans that bruised his knuckles. Had the situation not been so serious, it would've been really funny.

Tom heard the scream again. It was louder and more deafening.

_The screamer was in the pantry with Tom._

"Who's there?" asked Tom, spinning around wildly. He swung his fists in every direction possible—and hit the microphone that was amplifying the scream and it fell down and hit him on the head.

He swung his fists again. This time, he knocked over the tape player that contained the source of the scream.

DHDHDHDHDH

The screaming had stopped, causing everyone to stop what they were doing and stay where they were.

The silence was almost deadly. Not a single person made a sound or a move. None of them even flinched. They all stood there like startled deer, waiting for the next sound to tell them when to go ahead. None of them even knew where they were. In their frenzy, they lost their sense of direction.

One minute passed by…then two…then three…then…

_BANG_

It was as though a referee had shot the pistol to let the race horses know it was time to begin. The frenzied running started once again.

Had any of them stopped to catch their breath in the dining room, they would've noticed there were only four Indian boys left…

DHDHDHDHDH

Carlos was the only one who had _some_ sense of direction. Or did he? He knew he was running around upstairs near the bedrooms—or was he running downstairs? He ran so fast he had to stop to catch his breath. He did and there was once again a deadly silence. His instincts were telling him to keep absolutely still until otherwise…

_BANG_

Carlos' instincts were telling him only one thing: _Run._ He acted on those instincts. He ran blindly, not caring where he ended up; just as long as he got away from where he was. He kept running and running when suddenly, he felt two hands push him down a flight of stairs—but these weren't the stairs to the main floor; no, these were the stairs to the basement.

Carlos fell down the stairs, into a spreading puddle—with live wires almost everywhere spewing out sparks. Almost immediately after hitting the water, Carlos began jerking wildly like a mad puppet. About 150 jolts of electricity spread throughout his body, frying up his brain and his heart, causing intense pain. If he wasn't busy dancing up and down, he would've screamed.

The last thing Carlos ever heard before he finally stopped jerking was the insane laughter of an insane murderer…


	18. Weakness

18

Weakness

Bree smelled it first; it smelt like sweet pork. She carefully followed the smell until she got to the basement door. She slowly opened it—and screamed, for there was Carlos, at the bottom of the stairs, electrocuted.

"What is it Bree?" "Good God, what happened?" "Who got murdered this time?"

Susan, Tom, and Katherine all quickly dashed to Bree's side. They froze at the sight of Carlos' burnt body.

"Oh my…" said Susan, trying her very best not to vomit.

"Isn't the electric chair a form of execution?" whispered Katherine.

"Yes," nodded Bree. "One got into Chancery and then there were four. Another rhyme has been fulfilled." Now it was her turn to go hysterical. She began to giggle uncontrollably. "You were right, Susan. This _is_ funny. Five little Indian boys going in for law; one got into Chancery and then there were four!" Her giggles turned into insane and uncontrollable laughter. "And now look!" she gasped in between laughing. "There's an Indian boy right beneath Tom's feet—smashed into bits!"

Bree's hysterical laughing continued until Katherine walked up to Bree and once again gave her a good smack across the face. Bree abruptly stopped. She blinked.

"I—I can't believe I needed _that_ again," she said, stunned. Then she noticed something behind Tom. "Tom, were those boots and gloves there before?" she asked. "And where did that wire cutter come from?"

Tom turned around and looked down. There was a pair of rubber boots and gloves that looked as though they had been used just recently. And right beside them was a wire cutter.

"So…now we know _how_ the murderer was able to do this," said Katherine softly. "They must've set the trap up while we were, I don't know, on that mad chase all over the house. At least Carlos died right after Gabrielle, so now they're together."

"Till death do us part," said Bree suddenly. She looked down at Carlos, the all-too familiar feeling of nausea slowly welcoming its way back into her stomach. "I suppose one of us should get him."

Tom volunteered. He slowly put on the rubber boots and gloves, as though part of him didn't want to go downstairs, but he knew he had to. He slowly walked down the stairs, pausing slightly at each step. At last, he got to the bottom. Grimacing, he bent down and picked up Carlos' body. As he bent down and looked to his left, he noticed a nearby sink that had water overflowing the top and leaking all over the floor.

DHDHDHDHDH

Everyone went to bed wordlessly and locked their bedroom doors behind them. This time, it was intentional…

DHDHDHDHDH

Tom undressed for bed and changed into his pyjamas. He often had long, hard days and this day was no exception! Right now, he was ready to soak his limbs in a steamy hot bath, but decided against it; he was too tired even for that. In fact, even if Lynette were still alive and were ready for a love making session—

_Stop that,_ Tom scolded himself._ Lynette is dead and gone. There is nothing you can do about it._

He lay on his side in bed. After about a minute, he slowly opened his nightstand drawer, looked into it—and smiled.

There was the gun, plain as day.

DHDHDHDHDH

Bree splashed some cold water on her face and shivered, partially from the sudden water splashing onto her face, but mostly from the fact that six people were dead. She walked to bed in her nightgown like a tin soldier. She leaned down on the bed and lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. She was grateful more than ever that Orson had not come. If he came and was one of the victims…she wasn't sure she would've been able to have her second love brutally murdered.

Bree sat up and stared at the wooden clock on the wall. Its hands were still stopped at twelve. Why _had_ the clocks in the lodge stopped working all of a sudden? Was it mere fate? Or was it the work of one of the guests? Or—was it the work of a slightly higher power?

That clock had a somewhat spooky feel to it. It had a way of seizing you up and making you stay exactly where you were—without saying a word. All it had to do was just _look_ at you and you knew that clock was the boss.

The clock slowly began to multiply itself, to spread itself all around the room, covering the ceiling, the floor, the walls—

"STOP IT!" shrieked Bree.

But the clocks had seemed to propose a rebellion and continued to spread out all over the room, threatening to engulf it. Those _clocks_…oh those wretched _clocks!_ They were staring at her—they were all staring at her!

Bree could no longer bear it. She shot up and let out a fierce battle cry. She raced to the wall and began smashing the clocks that were staring at her with their hungry eyes, but it was to no avail. No matter how much she pounded the clocks with her angry fists, a new clock would emerge and take that clock's place.

Refusing to give up, Bree smashed one angry fist into what looked like a giant Grandfather clock—and screamed in agony and clutched her bloody hand. She seethed in agony as she stared at the crimson colours slowly spreading down her hand and onto her arm with shards of hateful glass sticking out. She walked into her bathroom to treat this wound. This was when she realized that there were no clocks staring at her, threatening to seize her up. It was just a hallucination.

Tears of embarrassment and pain watered up in Bree's eyes. _This isn't like me at all,_ she thought. _What's wrong with me?_


	19. A red herring swallowed one

19  
A red herring swallowed one…

Bree lay in bed and stared straight up at the ceiling, not even bothering to look at what once was her mirror. She couldn't process what had just happened. This was something that was completely out-of-character for someone like _her,_ Bree Hodge. _She _was supposed to always stay calm and put a smile on her face and pretend as though nothing were wrong.

Bree gently caressed her now bandaged hand. She was able to get _most_ of the glass out—the glass that she could see, anyway. There were probably tiny shards still in there that she couldn't see, but no matter—she'd have a doctor look at it when she got home…_assuming_ she lived to see home again.

_Bree, relax,_ she thought. _You'll see your family again. If you can survive your husband being murdered, abandoning your son, an attempt on your life by an insane mother-in-law, AND your daughter's pregnancy, you can survive this!_

But this wasn't enough to calm Bree down. She sighed and got up. She put her bathrobe on, picked up a flashlight, and solemnly walked out of her room, knowing it was probably one in the morning, but so what? She would make up for the lack of sleep once she got home and she _would_ get home!

Bree slowly pushed her bedroom door open and closed it. She couldn't stand to be alone one minute longer. She _had_ to talk to someone or else she would go insane. But whom to talk to? Tom? Katherine? Susan? Well, it had to be one of those three since there weren't many people left. Tom, she wasn't so sure. He might think she was trying to take advantage of the fact that Lynette was dead and—well, she just wasn't like that! Katherine, maybe. The two were beginning to come to an understanding, but Bree still wasn't one-hundred percent sure she could trust Katherine—or anyone for that matter. Susan—she had known Susan the longest and had grown close to her.

Very well. Let it be Susan. Bree confidently walked up to Susan's door and knocked on it. "Susan?" she whispered harshly.

"Bree?"

Bree nearly jumped a foot in the air and spun around.

It was only Tom.

"Tom!" she gasped. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry," apologized Tom. "I couldn't sleep and decided to go for a walk. What happened to your hand?" he asked, noticing Bree's bandaged hand.

Bree blushed. "Well, I—I lost control in my room and—"

_Lynette…_yes, the gracious lips that were moving were those of Lynette's…without warning, Tom pulled Bree's face towards his and pressed his lips firmly against hers—just in time for Susan to open her door. "_Guys?_" she asked in the same tone of voice she would use if she saw Martians land on Earth.

Tom and Bree quickly pulled apart. This was when Tom realized he had just kissed _Bree_, not Lynette. "Er…this isn't what it looks like?" he said weakly.

"Never mind that," said Bree quickly. "Susan, we're sorry to bother you like this, but we couldn't sleep and we were just wondering if we could spend the night with you."

"Sounds like a good plan to me," shrugged Susan. "If we're all in one room, no one come out and harm Katherine."

The three of them walked into Susan's room and locked the door behind them. They sat on her bed. There was an awkward silence for about a minute before Susan asked, "What happened to your hand, Bree?"

"Oh, I just had a temporary moment of insanity, that's all," assured Bree.

"Kind of like when I kissed Bree," muttered Tom.

Another awkward silence. "Do you think we should invite Katherine to come stay with us for the night?" asked Susan.

"I don't see why not," said Bree. "The more the merrier."

The three of them got up and walked together out of Susan's room. As soon as they did, however, Susan's bare feet stepped into a wet puddle. They simultaneously looked down—and sure enough, there was a spreading puddle all over the floor.

"Where did _that_ come from?" asked Tom.

"It's coming from Katherine's room!" exclaimed Susan, who had followed the trail of water with her eyes, which led to Katherine's room, which was right next door to Susan's room.

The trio burst open the door to Katherine's room and ran right across the soaking wet floor and straight into the bathroom (the door was already open).

They froze. The bathtub was overflowing, spilling gallons upon gallons of water all over the floor. Bree took a few steps forward and looked into the tub, knowing too well what she would find, and she did—she found Katherine bound and gagged in the bathtub, drowned…and floating right above her body was one of the porcelain Indian boys…


	20. Down to Three

20

Down to Three

If breakfast the morning before was awkward, then this was downright uncomfortable. Here they were, the three remaining Indian boys, symbolic of the china ones on the mantelpiece. The centerpiece was no longer attractive. Now, it served as a symbol of each guests' fate.

"Three of us left…and it's one of us," said Tom softly. "But which one?"

"It doesn't really matter," said Susan. "As long as we stick together, we'll be safe. By the way, do you think anyone noticed we should've been back by now?"

"I don't know," said Bree. "I think Orson and the kids should be suspicious by now. Maybe they went to the police."

"But what if it takes them too long to get here?" asked Susan, her voice cracking.

"If it makes you feel better, we'll go outside and send some sort of distress signal," said Bree gently. "Someone might notice it and call for help."

"Bree," said Tom suddenly. "I want to talk…about what happened last night when we were waiting for Susan, and I…"

"There is nothing to talk about," said Bree coldly.

"Too bad, because I'm going to talk, anyway," said Tom, looking Bree in the eye. "I'm sorry I kissed you. I took one look at your face and…this is going to sound crazy, but I saw _Lynette's_ face when I looked at you. I don't know, I guess it was just the stress of the entire situation."

"Well, what's done is done," said Bree calmly. "I won't say anything if you won't."

"Deal," said Tom.

"I don't mean to sound gloomy, but what if help never arrives?" brought up Susan. "What if by the time someone comes…we're all dead? What if we die without ever getting our sins off our chests? Don't you think we should do it now? I mean, someone _might_ come and rescue us; I just want to be prepared. I don't want to die with these secrets on my chest."

When Tom and Bree didn't reply, Susan said, "I guess I'll go first: The CD was right. I did behave childishly to get the men I wanted. I pretended to be sick so Dr. Ron would notice me, but there's a part of me that thinks it was for the best because if I hadn't done it, he would've never discovered my wondering spleen and I would've died. And okay yes, I did sleep with Karl, but I had no idea he and Edie were together, honest! But I think the worst thing I did was burn Edie's house down. You see, I thought Mike was over at Edie's house and I brought a measuring cup with me so I could lie and say I wanted a cup of sugar. I went in there, saw a lot of candles, and heard, um…noises upstairs. I assumed the worse and tossed the cup over my shoulder in defeat."

"I think I know where this is going," muttered Bree.

"Then you're thinking right," said Susan. "Martha Huber found my cup at the remains of Edie's house and blackmailed me with it, but Julie and I took the cup back and destroyed it. I told Edie, but she never went to the police." She brightened up somewhat. "Okay! Who wants to go next?"

"Actually, you already know about me what there is to know," spoke up Tom. "I told you the truth: I never found out I fathered a child until the child's mother contacted me years later. How can anyone say I _abandoned_ her?"

"That leaves me," said Bree softly. "You're right, Susan. If we're going to die, I might as well admit my guilty secrets now: All of it was true. Even the parts about me and Andrew." She took a deep, shaking breath and went on: "Andrew was driving home drunk one night when…when he accidentally ran over Mrs. Solis. Although I wasn't happy with what he did, I didn't want him to go to prison and ruin his future, so Rex and I took Andrew's car to a bad part of downtown and left it for someone to steal. When I talked to Andrew about it, I knew I had made a mistake. He had absolutely _no_ remorse whatsoever about running over that lady. 'She was an old lady,' he said. 'She lived her life. I've barely lived mine.'

"I thought I hadn't punished him enough to make him understand what he did was wrong, so…I framed Andrew for marijuana possession and he got suspended from school and sent to boot camp. God, I'm such a terrible mother!"

Bree was on the verge of breaking down when Susan gently stretched her hand out and touched Bree's hand and said, "No, you're not. We've all had moments where we've had to give our children harsh punishments and feel guilty over it. And let's face it: There's no such thing as the perfect child. Julie, for instance, do you know what she did? She hid Zack Young in her room. _And_ she went on birth control behind my back."

"Did she make your life miserable to the point where she seduced your boyfriend and you had to leave her on the side of the road?" croaked Bree, tears streaming down her face.

Tom and Susan fell silent. "Gosh, Bree," said Tom softly. "I never knew…"

"Well, you don't know anything about my life," said Bree coldly. "No one does. No one truly does."

Tom and Susan got up from their seats and sat next on either side of Bree. The three hugged for about a minute before Bree said, "There's something you have to know about Katherine. She said I could tell you if anything ever happened to her."

And so, Bree repeated the story about Katherine moving from Fairview and back.

"Wow," said Tom. "That woman had it almost as bad as you, Bree."

"Yes," nodded Bree.

The trio sat there for five minutes before Susan said, "If I have to stay in this house any longer, I'm going to snap. I say we all go out and go through with Bree's idea about sending a distress signal."

"I agree," said Bree.

The trio got up and walked solemnly out of the dining room and straight to the front doors, hoping to never set foot in this cursed house ever again.


	21. A big bear hugged one

21

A big bear hugged one…

Bree, Tom, and Susan slowly opened the doors, walked out, and closed the doors behind them. How long had it been since they were last outside—two days ago, one day ago? It didn't really matter now; what mattered was that they got out of that house.

The remaining three stuck closely together like a tight-knit group as they took a walk through the snow. "Look—the snow has stopped falling," said Susan. She giggled. "Isn't that funny? It was snowing a few minutes ago and now it isn't!"

"It's okay, Susan," said Bree. "We understand." She lightly patted Susan on the back, which caused Susan to calm down a little bit.

"Can you believe everyone is gone?" Susan asked softly. "Everyone—even Mike."

"You still have us," reminded Tom.

"Yeah, but it's not the _same,_" insisted Susan.

Bree and Tom knew exactly what she meant, so they didn't argue. After being used to hearing everyone converse and argue, the knowledge of it being just the three of them was downright uncomfortable.

"When are we going to create that distress signal?" asked Susan.

"We'll do it right now," replied Bree. "I have a mirror in my pocket. I can use that to send an SOS signal." She reached into the front pocket of her black jacket—and felt nothing. She frowned and searched furiously for her mirror in all pockets possible. "There _was_ a mirror in one of my pockets the last time I checked."

"I've an idea: How about we stay outside until help arrives?" suggested Tom. "Food doesn't matter; people go days without eating. And although it's cool-ish now, it's not quite as cold as it was when we first got here."

"And how do you know it's going to stay that way?" asked Susan. "How do you know the temperature's not going to drop to fifty below zero while we're waiting and we all freeze to death? And how I do know that's not your intention?"

"Because if I was intending to kill you and Bree, I wouldn't be doing it this way," said Tom. "It wouldn't fit the next rhyme. Three little Indian boys walking in the zoo, a big bear hugged one and then there were two. Look around: Any bear that's within five miles of here is hibernating right now."

"But what about those bear statues up on the ledges near our windows?" asked Bree, pointing to the tall, black, intimidating grizzlies that stood up on their hind legs on the ledges.

"Well, as long as we're all down here, there's no way the killer can just run upstairs and push one of the statues onto one of us without being seen, right?" shrugged Tom.

"What will we do when night comes?" said Susan softly.

For once, Tom was at a loss for words. "I never thought of that," he said softly. "I guess we'll just have to stay awake."

"But how?" asked Susan. "How are we going to stay awake the entire time?"

"We'll all go back in the house if necessary, but only as a last resort," said Bree. "I don't know about you, but I'm glad to be out of that wretched house."

"As long as we stick together at all costs, we'll be safe," said Tom. "And besides," he patted his moss green jacket pocket, "I found Mike's gun last night when we went to bed. You'll never guess where it was."

"In your sock drawer," said Susan sarcastically.

"Ha-ha," sneered Tom. "It was in my nightstand drawer. Before either of you say anything, I have absolutely no idea how it got there. All I know is it wasn't there when we looked the first time, and it was there when I went to bed. Don't look at me like that!" he said in an offended tone of voice when he noticed the way Susan and Bree were looking at him. "If I wanted, I could shoot you both right now! But I won't. I'm going to use this gun's power for good, not for evil. If anyone tries to approach us, I'll shoot. Happy?"

Bree and Susan meekly nodded. They were getting the message loud and clear.

"I wonder what it'll be like when we get back," mused Susan. "Half the neighbourhood will be gone. Gabrielle, Carlos, Lynette, Mike—everybody. _Gone._ How are we going to deal with that?"

"I'm sure that in time, everyone else's houses will be filled with new neighbours and we'll get to start over," said Bree, trying to be as cheerful as she could.

"Easy for _you_ to say," scoffed Tom. "You're not the one who's going to be a single parent to five children."

"Or two," piped up Susan. "If my baby is a boy, I'm going to name him Mike. He'll grow up learning that his father was a good man."

Out of nowhere, a voice that sounded a lot like Mike's chanted _"Susan…Susan…Susan…"_

"Mike?" said Susan hopefully, slowly turning around, trying to find the source of the sound.

"Mike's dead, Susan, it's just the wind," said Bree calmly.

But Susan refused to believe this as the chanting grew louder and steadier. Mike was alive! He was in the house waiting for her! He hadn't gotten killed after all; the killer had just chopped up some other guy! Susan knew it in her heart to be true, so she began running right up to the house, not even noticing one of the bear statues up above was moving slightly…

Tom and Bree knew instinctively foul play was at hand, so they raced after her, crying out, "SUSAN!"

But it was too late—the bear statue was already falling. Before Susan had a chance to react, the statue fell onto her and crushed part of her body, killing her instantly.

Tom and Bree ran up to the cruel statue that took Susan's life and gazed down at Susan's lifeless body. They both reached out and touched the statue's head at the same time, causing them to touch hands.

Tom and Bree slowly looked up and realized in horror that there was no one else alive at the lodge—_except them…_


	22. One got frizzled up

22

One got frizzled up…

"It was you," whispered Bree, her voice trembling. "You killed them all. You killed Gabrielle and Lynette—and Susan," she said, looking down on Susan's body.

"You're a very convincing actress, Bree, I'll give you credit for that," said Tom nastily. "If I were you, though, I'd drop the innocent act. The game's over. It's just us two now."

"Yes," said Bree. "It's just us two."

There was a silence between them that could only be broken by the howling wind. Bree looked down at Susan's body again. "Oh, Susan…you deserved better…and that poor baby…"

"What's this?" sneered Tom. "Feeling sorry for our victims now are we?"

"I don't see why not," said Bree. "Don't you feel any pity?"

"Not for you," sneered Tom. "Especially not after what you did to Lynette."

Bree ignored this and said, "Well, don't you think we owe it to Susan to at least carry her body into Edie's room and—put it with the other victims?"

Tom laughed, "I should've known; even at a time like this, you still feel the need for everything to neatly be in its place."

Bree grew increasingly annoyed and said, "How about we at least move this statue off of her?"

Tom laughed again, "All right, Miss Perfection."

The two bent down and began to lift the statue off of Susan, which proved to be easier said than done. They grunted and struggled a great deal, but they were able to at least move part of the statue off of Susan's horribly mangled, bloody head that was nearly severed off of her body.

Bree grimaced. "Oh—oh my—my—my—God, that's—her head—her whole face, it's…"

She didn't finish that sentence. She fainted into Tom's arms. He smiled cruelly, thinking, _So she couldn't handle the sight of her own victim's body. How deliciously ironic._

Still, part of Tom pitied Bree, as Susan was her best friend, so he gently laid her down in the snow. He got up, brushed some of the snow on his jacket off, turned around, and began walking away…

And then he heard a cold, "Don't you take another step."

Tom slowly turned around and clasped his hand to the jacket pocket where he had stored Mike's former weapon, knowing too well it would be empty. Bree was standing only a few feet away from Tom, pointing the gun right at him.

"So _that's_ why you were so eager to get that statue off of Susan!" exclaimed Tom. "You wanted to pick my pocket!"

"You've got that right," said Bree, holding the gun steadily and unwaveringly.

Tom could practically hear his heartbeat. He kept fighting in his head to calm down. He spoke slowly, as though to a five-year-old who wouldn't go to bed, "Give the gun to me."

Bree laughed.

"Come on, hand it over; I won't harm you," said Tom, his voice growing more steady. His usually quick mind, which had never doubted him when handling his children or pitching an idea to his former boss, was beginning to fail him now. He was running out of ideas. Should he try to reason with her, pacify her…? Finally, an idea came to Tom and he put it to use. He laughed and said, "Now look here, Bree. Think of your children…" And then he sprang.

Bree automatically pressed the trigger.

It was enough to knock Tom over. He clutched his kidney and seethed in agony. He looked up to see Bree standing there in shock before taking one step back. Trying his very best to ignore the pain, he got up to his feet and, like a wild animal in its prime, sprang towards Bree. Like the quick-thinking hunter, Bree once again took a shot.

Tom hanged in mid-air for a brief second before crashing to the ground. Bree stood there, pointing the gun at Tom just in case he suddenly sprang back to life. It was about two minutes before Bree finally realized Tom Scavo's brain wouldn't allow him to fight back—because it had a bullet lodged deep into it…


	23. He went and hanged himself

23

He went and hanged himself…

The relief was overwhelming. It overcame Bree to the point where she just stood there in shock for about five minutes before it finally dawned on her that there was no more terror…no more fear…

Before she could control herself, Bree began to laugh. It was an insane laugh, a hideous laugh that was quite out of character for her. It was the laugh of someone who was used to feeling absolute terror learning that there was no more fear. She laughed her insane laugh for about a minute or two before she calmed herself down and began to walk back towards the main doors, holding the gun limply in her hands.

Bree pushed open one of the doors and walked in. She looked around the house like a deer observing its settings. The silence was almost eery. She had gotten used to hearing people whispering and chatting about their situation as much as she had grown accustomed to the sound of someone screaming upon finding a body. The faces of the victims ran through her mind: Edie's twisted blue lips—Adam's peaceful face—Lynette's look of sheer terror—Mike's head and waist and legs found separately—the horrible welts on Gabrielle's once-beautiful face—Carlos' burnt up body—Katherine's half-open eyes—and Susan's horribly mangled head.

Tom Scavo had done it. He had killed them all. Bree Hodge was going to be his next victim. But she, using her cleverness and wit, turned the tables on him. Now…it was all over. There was no one but her—Bree Hodge. She was alive with nine dead bodies, which would be difficult to explain to the police…assuming they arrived. Surely someone must've realized something was amiss by now! Even then, it could take hours before someone arrived and rescued her. Until then…what to do until then? Should she get something to eat, or sleep?

Deciding the need to eat was more important, Bree walked into the dining room. Here, the silence was almost disturbing. No matter. She noticed something: There were still three little Indian boys on the centerpiece. She walked up to it. She picked up two of the Indian boys and said, with a crooked smile on her face, "Now, now, my dears, that's not right. That's not proper. Everything must be perfect."

Bree threw the two Indian boys on the floor and they fell with a resounding _crash._ Bree picked up the last little Indian boy and smiled. "You can come with me," she whispered. "We survived, my dear. It's all over. All that there's left for us to do is wait until help arrives." She clutched the Indian to her breast and walked out of the dining room, unaware that the gun she was holding had fallen from her hands and onto the floor…

Bree felt incredibly exhausted. She decided she was going to make up for the sleep she didn't get last night and go upstairs and sleep until someone finally came. She felt too exhausted to run up the stairs to her room, so she slowly drudged up the stairs.

Bree suddenly had that familiar feeling that she was being watched. She spun around.

No one was there.

Assuming it to just be her nerves, Bree shrugged and continued to walk up the stairs, still holding the little Indian boy. She began to wonder who would notice first she was supposed to be back home by now. Would it be Orson? Or Andrew? Danielle? Or would baby Benjamin cry for his adoptive mother and let everyone figure it out? She still remembered Orson and his handsome face and dashing brown eyes…or were they hazel? She suddenly realized she was forgetting the faces of those she loved, which frightened her. She couldn't even remember Benjamin's sweet face, which somewhat resembled his true mother's.

Bree was now at her bedroom door. She gazed down into the Indian's eyes as she pushed the door open and walked in, not looking up until she had taken about three steps. When she did look up, she saw something that made her gasp in shock. Was she seeing what she thought she was seeing? It couldn't possibly be—and yet it was. Could she really be seeing a noose hanging in the middle of the room—with a chair all ready? A chair that could be kicked away…

Bree took one shaking step forward and stopped. Then she took another. And another. This was it. This was the end. And it was the last rhyme: _He went and hanged himself and then there were none._

Without warning, Bree suddenly tripped and fell. She looked up at the chair and noose—and began to sob. Nothing in her life was ever perfect. She only _pretended_ it was perfect. Perfect dinners, perfect clothes, a perfect husband, two perfect children—all that was a lie. Nothing ever went the way it was supposed to. She hadn't planned on Rex being murdered. She hadn't planned on Andrew being gay and trying to make her life hell every chance he got—or on her abandoning him. She hadn't planned on Danielle getting pregnant. And she especially hadn't planned on walking into her room to discover a noose and a chair. Well, nothing in Bree's life ever went according to plan.

Still sobbing, Bree slowly stood up, using the chair to steady herself. She looked into the Indian's eyes angrily, as though it were the enemy. She threw it on the ground and it fell with a _crash._ She stepped up onto the chair. This was what Rex and Orson wanted her to do and she knew it. She put her head through the noose and tightened it around her neck.

Now the feeling that someone _was_ watching her became stronger than ever.

The tears had stopped. It was time to finish this off, nice and neatly. Bree lifted up one foot…

…and kicked away the chair.


	24. Whodunit?

24

Whodunit?

"I just don't understand it, sir," said Officer Quintin. "Ten dead bodies and no murderer in sight—it just doesn't make sense!"

"I share your sentiments," sighed Officer Peterson. "It seems incredible, doesn't it? Four of the victims were murdered in the standard traditions of murder—two were poisoned and two were shot—but the rest were killed in rather unique ways. One was chopped up, one was stung to death, one was electrocuted, one was drowned, one had a bear statue dropped onto them, and one of them was hanged."

Officer Quintin winced. "Nasty business, all of it."

"I agree," said Officer Peterson. "If only their families had gotten suspicious sooner, we might've made it on time. If only Mrs. Scavo's children had realized sooner their parents should've been home by now. If only they told their baby-sitter, Andrew Van de Kamp, of their suspicions sooner. If only…" His knuckles firmly grasped his chair to the point where they turned white. "Well, I suppose it's no use thinking about what could've been. I might as well go over the facts with you. Fact one, while searching the house, I came across a CD. It plays a childish, yet very gruesome, nursery rhyme: Ten Little Indians. Approximately ten seconds after the song stops playing, a series of accusations are played against the various ten guests. I'm not one to say whether any of them are true or not, but some of the other officers and I investigated further and we have come to conclude that the voice on the CD was that of Karen McCluskey's, who lived in the same neighbourhood as the victims and was even friends with one of them."

"So you're saying that the voice on the CD was Karen McCluskey's voice?"

"Yes, but unfortunately, she can't tell us anything because she died on the same day everyone left for Eden Lodge."

"**Died?**"

"Yes. It's still under investigation, but it sounds like poison to me. But don't worry; I know who murdered them all, but before I tell you whom, allow me to tell you the facts: Only five people brought journals: Mike Delfino, Susan Mayer, Bree Hodge, Gabrielle Marquez, and Katherine Mayfair. The journals of Delfino, Marquez, and Mayfair all stop at certain points; Delfino's stopped after the third murder, so we can safely conclude he was the fourth victim. Marquez's stopped after the third murder as well; however, according to Mayer's journal, Mike Delfino and Gabrielle Marquez died in that exact order. After the sixth death—that of Carlos Solis—the journals of Bree Hodge and Katherine Mayfair stop right there; however, the last journal entry of Susan Mayer's is, and I quote, 'Katherine Mayfair is dead'. There is no mention whatever of Tom Scavo dying."

"So that means the only three people alive before the journals went blank were Bree Hodge, Susan Mayer, and Tom Scavo."

"Right. Now I'm going to paint three different scenarios to you, Quintin. Let's start with Susan Mayer. We'll say she shot Tom Scavo, drugged up Bree Hodge and hanged her, and set up a trap for the bear statue to fall onto her. The idea is just laughable, for not only do people not commit suicide like that, but also because her partially decapitated head was _exposed_, meaning _someone moved part of the statue off of her after her death._

"Next, we'll look at Tom Scavo. There is the possibility that he induced Mrs. Hodge to hang herself, pushed the bear statue on to Mrs. Mayer—the statue was exactly near Mrs. Hodge's window, don't you know—went outside and tried to move the statue off of her. The sight proved to be too gruesome for him, so he shot himself.

"_But_—Tom Scavo's body was found _outside_ the lodge near Susan Mayer's body—and the gun that was used to kill him was found _inside_ the lodge right near the kitchen. Which brings me to my final scenario and before that, I should tell you that Bree Hodge's fingerprints were found on the gun."

Officer Quintin gaped. "But then that means—"

"I know what you're going to say: That it was Bree Hodge. That she shot Mr. Scavo, pushed the bear statue onto Mrs. Mayer and then—hanged herself. It seems like a very good theory, doesn't it? And mind you, I _would_ be willing to go with it if it wasn't for just one minor flaw: The chair that Mrs. Hodge kicked away when hanging herself _wasn't found knocked over._ It was found neatly propped up against the wall, meaning _someone was alive after her death._"

"This may sound like a stupid theory, but what if there really was a Miss Teri Game all along and she did murder the others?"

"Interesting theory, but no; the journals of the victims confirm that they found no one in the house and that they all think the murderer is one of them. They also go so far as to mention that they were the only ones to arrive at Eden Lodge and that no one else arrived before or after them. And even if someone _did_ follow them to Eden Lodge, then this would be an open-and-shut case; that person would've been long caught and there was absolutely _no way_ Miss Game could've survived hiding out in the snow for several hours only going inside to murder the others. We would've found at least five people alive and a frozen body in the snow."

"But in that case, _who killed them?_" questioned Officer Quintin.

"Now that I'm done exonerating the final three victims, I will now admit a secret to you," said Officer Peterson. "While searching the house, I found a five-page note taped to the refrigerator in the kitchen. And that note, as it turns out, is the murder's confession. I am planning on reading it out loud at the victims' funerals to their families so they can learn the truth about what really happened, but in the mean time, I'll read it to you; I think you'll find it very interesting…"

**A/N: This is it. The next chapter will reveal all. It will explain who murdered the others and why. This is your final chance to guess whodunit. But once you submit your guess, that is to be your final guess; you cannot guess twice. I've already given away a BIG clue in this chapter to make it easier on you. Even if you guess wrong, just remember that there's no penalty for getting it wrong. I'm still working on the final chapter, though, so it might be a few days before the mystery is solved. When it is, prepare to be amazed…**


	25. Epilogue

25

Epilogue

Ever since I was a little girl, I knew I wasn't normal like all the other girls, who preferred to play with their Barbies. Instead, I preferred to lock myself up in my room and read as many mystery novels as I could get my hands on. Although the novels I read ranged from Nancy Drew to Mary Higgins Clark, I was fixated with murder mystery novels. Something about them fascinated me. It was just how brilliant they were planned out and the risk that came with them. I suppose part of this fascination came from the crappy childhood I had to endure with my mother. When she wasn't busy beating the crap out of my sisters and me, she was bringing a new guy home every night and when she wasn't doing that, she was stoning herself up. Murder mysteries were my escape method. Every night, I would dream of murdering my mother in the most gruesome manner possible and then running away with Lucy and Lydia to some foreign country (it changed every time; one night it would be Italy, the next it would be Saudia Arabia) where we would change our names, start over, and marry triplets. Of course, this dream never came true. We came to learn how to deal with our problems, grew up, and went on with our lives. The old murder fantasies of my childhood would occasionally come back, but I'd push them out of my head, telling myself that was a long time ago and that murder was wrong.

All that repression came to an end after the supermarket hold-up. That was when my plan slowly began to build up in my head. The plan was to commit not just one murder, but murder on a grand scale! I would gather various friends of mine to the little-known lodge, Eden Lodge, and punish them for their sins in the most grizzly manner. I didn't have the complete plan outlined, of course, because at the time, it was just a little fantasy I had that I would occasionally dream up when I wasn't doing anything else—you know, like the fantasy about having the ultimate car. I knew this fantasy of mine was wrong, and yet it felt so right. The 'wrong' part took control of me, however, and I was able to hold back my urges.

This common sense came to an abrupt end when I found out I had Lymphoma. Even though I ultimately beat it, I was not willing to take a chance. If there is anything I have learned, it is to live every day as if it could be your last in case God decides to cruelly cut your life short. I decided right then and there that I would not die as the mundane patient succumbing to cancer. Instead, I was going to go down with a bang.

One of the things I would need would be an accomplice. I would need someone to unknowingly act as a spy for my fellow victims and then report what they saw or heard back to me under the impression that we were just friendly gossiping. This help came from two resources. First, I used my children as my own little spies. While they were causing mischief around the neighbourhood, they came across information that they felt they had to report back to me. Inside, I was ecstatic, but on the outside, I simply went, "That's nice, dear." They witnessed the birth of Danielle Van de Kamp's son, found Mike Delfino's pills while playing in his truck one day, Kayla was close friends with Sheri who confided in Kayla that she was her new best friend after having lost her other best friend when the two got into an argument that Gabrielle Marquez coaxed her into getting into, and, last but not least, when Dylan baby-sat them one faithful day, they found the late Lillian Simms' confession about how low she and Katherine Mayfair were willing to stoop—all to make sure Dylan never found out her father was a murderer. They never showed the note to Dylan, of course. Instead, they kept it safe with them until I came across it in Parker's jean pocket while doing the laundry.

The second resource was from my own friends, my potential victims. Whenever they'd come crying to me about the bad day they had, they'd unknowingly sign their own death warrants. I had to bite my lip until it bled to keep myself from laughing over the dramatic irony. On the outside, I pretended to be a caring friend, but deep down, I was disgusted with every one of their actions. But I couldn't be more disgusted and infuriated with anyone than Bree Hodge, who defined hypocrisy. At least Gabrielle Marquez and Susan Mayer were openly honest with me about almost everything. Bree, on the other hand, was a filthy little liar. I will not go into details as to how I found out about Bree and George, or about how her wretched son ran over Juanita Solis; all I'll say is that I made my own little investigations that led me to interesting conclusions. So I think I shall reveal exactly how I found out about her most horrific sin of all: One day, Susan came over to comfort me about my cancer. I decided this would be the perfect opportunity to trick her into confessing, so I casually mentioned that no matter how much my children drove me crazy, they were still my children and I would always love them no matter what. Know what her response was?

"There's something disturbing Bree told me a while back that I have to tell you. Remember when Andrew 'ran away'? Well, she told me that Andrew didn't run away at all…she abandoned him. She just left him by the side of the road with some supplies and took off."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Are you sure?" I asked.

"Well, that's what she said to me," said Susan. "It's pretty hard to forget something like that."

This left me stunned. I wouldn't argue with anyone who said that being a homemaker is difficult, nor would I deny that my own boys have made me want to pull my hair out, but abandoning your own child? How anyone can bring themselves to do something so horrible is beyond me.

Once I found out the information I needed to find out, I needed to find someone to help make the arrangements and record those scathing indictments on the CD. This help came in the form of Karen McCluskey. We have not been the best of friends, but she's willing to help me when I need her. On the night before Christmas, I approached her with a plan: She was to drop off the following envelopes to the following addresses (or drop the following letter off to Gabrielle and Carlos in their case) and they would all receive invitations to a get-together a friend of mine was holding, but if anyone talked to her about it, she was to pretend she knew nothing of it. She did a second thing for me, of course, but I'll go into that later.

It was a lot of fun to pretend as though I were a completely clueless invitee and was just as anxious to meet Miss Teri Game as the rest of my neighbours. I have to admit, though, that the trickiest part was thinking up a reason for knowing Miss Game in case anyone I asked. It wasn't until I 'got' my invitation that it came to me: Of course! We must've met in college! After all, I had been rather popular back then and had too many friends to keep track of; perhaps that was how I met Teri! The truth is, I met Teri when I saw Kayla playing one of the Nancy Drew games Tom and I bought for her and the name on a naming card was Miss Teri Game. I caught on to the pun instantly and thought it was a brilliant name to use to suggest an air of mystery to the mysterious host.

Before I go on to mention Kayla's part in this, I should discuss why I decided to kill my victims the way I did: While my plan was still in the early stages of developing, I read book of poems to Penny one night to help her sleep. One of those poems was the rhyme of the Ten Little Indian Boys. Something about the rhyme fascinated me. The dramatic rise and climax, the sense of inevitability…I knew in that moment that this was how I was going to kill my victims. I would gather nine of them, lure them to Eden Lodge, play a CD that first played the nursery rhyme and then the accusations, and then I would kill each and every one of them off one by one in accordance to the Ten Little Indians rhyme to drive them all insane, constantly wondering if they would be the ones to die next in such a horrible fashion. Of course, I wouldn't be stupid enough to stay alive while killing them off; otherwise, they'd eventually use the process of elimination to figure out I had done it. That, however, shall also be mentioned later. Kayla came into this when I gently told her I wanted her to sing the Ten Little Indians nursery rhyme for a little boy in the hospital who needed something to cheer him up. She was confused as to how a rhyme such as this would cheer anyone up until I explained to her that if she made it sound as cheery as possible, the little boy would learn to be happy under even the direst of circumstances. After that, she didn't ask any questions and proceeded with recording the song.

Two days before we were bound to leave, and after making the reservations for Eden Lodge, the first place I stopped by was Susan Mayer and Mike Delfino's house. I took Mike aside and advised him to take his gun with him in case any mountain lions came along and threatened to spoil everyone's good fun, but if anyone asked why he brought the gun, he was never to bring up my name in his explanation. To my delight, he agreed that it was better to be safe than sorry. Ah, if only he knew…

After this, I went to pay Mrs. McCluskey another visit. I told her that I was planning on playing a little joke on everyone during our visit at Eden Lodge. She looked at me a bit strangely when I first told her what I wanted her to do, but I assured her it was just a prank. I had grown close to Mrs. McCluskey by this time, so I felt somewhat guilty lacing her arthritis medicine with rat poison while she was recording the accusations, but I reminded myself that if I allowed her to stay alive, she'd eventually smell a rat and go to the police and they would arrive at Eden Lodge a lot sooner than I planned and everything would go down the tubes.

Fortunately, nothing went wrong during the first few days my plan was launched into action. I took this as a sign and proceeded with it. We all arrived at Eden Lodge via cable car on the last day of 2007. The party included myself. When everyone decided to prepare dinner for themselves, I pretended to go upstairs to my room to change after about ten minutes, but once I was sure no one was watching, I took the axe I had slipped into my suitcase, climbed down the drainpipe out the window, ran up to the cable, and chopped it with all my might until it eventually broke and collapsed. I quickly tossed the axe with it. Then, I snuck back into the house, quietly placed the CD into the hidden CD player in the parlour, hid the remote, and went to my room to change for dinner.

I could barely contain my excitement, but I was able to. I pretended to be every bit as shocked and angry as my victims when the rhyme and the accusations were played. In the chaos arising from the accusations, I slipped some cyanide into Edie Britt's drinking glass. Ah yes, Edie Britt…what is there to say about her, aside from the fact that she's the neighbourhood slut? I've never liked her that much, and the accusation about her faking a suicide was based on my own personal guess (and I knew from the look on her face that she was guilty as sin) but she never did anything personal to me, so she went first. That was the order my victims went, you see—those whose sins were lightest went first, to spare them the mental torture reserved for the more serious sinners. She wasn't the only victim to die by poisoning, however. Another thing I had quickly done before dinner was sneak into the Mayfair's room and lightly lace Adam Mayfair's sleeping pills with chloral hydrate.

While I was still in the process of digging up everyone's dirty little secrets back in Fairview, I had the pleasure of meeting Sylvia Greene. She was absolutely hysterical and went on and on about the love she and Adam Mayfair had, how much she hated his wife, how she had sued for sexual harassment and forced the Mayfair's to move here, how she tracked Adam down, and how if she couldn't live without Adam, she didn't want to live at all. I did not see her again after that, but I've heard rumours that she jumped off a bridge. Then again, I've also heard that she is taking firearm courses to massacre the Mayfair's, so who knows what really became of her. But, of course, I knew from the way she carried on and on that she was telling the truth. Cheaters make me absolutely furious, but what Adam did was nothing compared to the sins committed by his wife, Katherine, whom I shall eventually get to. At least Adam died the most peaceful death out of everyone.

Speaking of night, when everyone was asleep, I quietly snuck into everyone's rooms using the windows and disabled the clocks and turned them all the way back to midnight, to add to the psychological horror they'd all be facing at my hands, to represent that their time was running out.

Getting Gabrielle to help fake my death was all-too easy. Right before we all went to bed the night before, I took Gabrielle off to the side and told her I suspected Edie was murdered and that although I was probably just being paranoid, we should come up with a plan in case the murderer strikes again, and so we did: I'd put on a double-layered bullet-proof vest which I had hid right before dinner in a secret compartment in the basement, shove a rubber knife coated with Vaseline and red cornstarch at the tip to give it a more realistic effect, and have Gabrielle tie me up to the wall and I would pretend to be dead. This would leave the murderer dumbstruck and would allow me to move about the lodge unsuspected so Gabrielle and I could catch the unknown murderer. This was a wise move, now that I look back on it. Pretending to be dead early on helped deflect suspicion off of me. And of course, it's the third rhyme: One said he'd stay there and then there were seven. Hence, I did not really die, I stayed there.

I can still remember it as though it were done only yesterday, not two days ago. After I proposed a search party and Gabrielle suggested everyone look outside once our efforts to find Miss Game inside the lodge proved fruitless, Tom said he was worried about me and wanted to stay behind. I kept assuring him I would be fine, though he was reluctant. Before he left, the last thing he ever said was that he loved me. I couldn't help but tear up at this, knowing this would be the last time I would ever speak to my husband ever again. I was able to wipe away my tears and I calmly pretended to search the basement in case anyone besides Gabrielle came downstairs. During this, I heard someone walk down the stairs. For a minute, I panicked. What if it was someone other than Gabrielle? What if that someone came downstairs right before Gabrielle came running down, ready to go through with the plan? Frightened, I called out, "Who's there?"

To my relief, I heard Gabrielle scoff in an 'isn't-it-obvious' voice, "Don't play games with me, Lynette; you know it's me."

To make sure it really was Gabrielle, I backed up to get a clearer view, accidentally tripping in the process—and there she was, with her 'let's-do-this' look. I pretended to scream, hoping someone would hear and think there was a murder going on—but that person wouldn't be able to interfere because right before coming down, Gabrielle locked the basement door. And so, we went through with out little plan: I had already put the vest on underneath my clothes, so Gabrielle tied me to the wall and put the fake knife right through the exact spot I told her to put it. To add a bit of extra horror to it, I leaned my head to one side and rolled my eyes all the way back. Gabrielle then ran upstairs, unlocked the basement door, opened it, closed it, opened it again, ran downstairs, and let out a scream that nearly deafened me. I've got to hand it to her: If I wasn't the murderer, I would've been convinced something really did happen.

Gabrielle and Tom carried me to Edie's room (the place where the dead bodies were going to be stashed from now on), Gabrielle carefully making sure Tom wasn't carrying me in such a way that he'd get a telltale sign I was still living. Let me tell you something: You have not smelt true unbearable stenches unless you have been in the same room as rotting corpses for four days straight. But it was all worth it to make sure no one ever found out my real plan.

I killed Mike Delfino early next morning. I somehow knew he would be up at this time, so I took a big risk by sneaking out of Edie's room and crouched beneath the stairs, waiting for Mike to come. When he did, I tip-toed in the dark up the stairs behind him. I slowly lifted up the alarm clock in Edie's room I had taken and whacked him over the head with it. Although Mike Delfino was handsome, there was a part of me that hated him for hiding his cruel past from those he loved, so I didn't feel the least bit sorry to tie him, drag him down to the basement, and chop him up with various different knives. Mike had begun to wake up when I first chopped off his fingers, but he was unable to cry out in pain, for I had also gagged him. I didn't stop until I had hacked up as much as the three knives I had were capable of chopping up. I then scooped up the remaining bits of Mike and put them all into the nearby toy chest. I washed my hands, closed the lid of the chest, and taped a little note to it that I had written which read 'Open Me', to add to the creepiness of the situation. I slowly and carefully carried the toy chest upstairs and into the dining room, where I removed another Indian boy—which I had been doing whenever someone died, I must add. As I exited the dining room, I heard footsteps, so I quickly ran back into Edie's room, snuck out the window, went up the drainpipe, and hid the three knives in the rooms of Susan Mayer, Carlos Solis, and Bree Hodge before scooting back to my room and reassuming my position.

And now, it was time for a bumblebee to sting one. Gabrielle Marquez should've known better than to trust me. Obviously, she has never read mystery novels, for the golden rule is to trust no one but yourself. She should've known better than to bring up her allergy to bee stings while attending chemotherapy with me, just like she should've known better than to confide her secrets to me—well, except for the one about her affair with her teenage gardener. Aw hell, I think even the President knows! You see, I chose Gabrielle to be both my accomplice and my fifth victim for three reasons: One, she was allergic to bee stings as I have mentioned so it would better fit the rhyme; two, along with her other dirty deeds, I felt appalled by her affair with John Rowland the most because what if she got bored of her marriage to Victor and eventually moved on to my boys when they hit their teenage years?; and three, she's not the sharpest knife in the drawer (ha, ha) so she wouldn't immeadiatly suspect me. I had told her to keep an eye open for me because I would eventually meet up with her again to share my suspicions on who the murderer was. We met up again outside—but it wasn't to discuss the identity of the murderer, but the identity of the next victim. Gabrielle realized this too late and began to run away from me.

The dumb bitch actually thought I was going to run after her in plain sight where anyone could see me, but she should've known better than to underestimate me. Little did she know that I had calculated her every move beforehand. I knew that the basement was the first place she'd go to since the doors leading down to it were just up ahead of where we were, or that earlier, I'd planted a wasp's nest down there and had disturbed them from their winter slumber so that the first thing that happened as soon as Gabrielle went into the cellar was she'd get stung to death. To make sure no one interrupted any of this, I'd locked the inside door to the basement and unlocked it only after Gabrielle's screams fell silent.

I should mention now that earlier, Tom found Mike's gun on the stairs and placed it in Edie's dresser and that shortly after I unlocked the basement door and went back to Edie's room, I took the gun, once again made the tiring climb up the drainpipe, and hid it behind one of the bear statues on the ledge of the lodge (keep that in mind), careful not to leave any fingerprints on it.

The next one to go was Carlos Solis. I always thought he was an SOB of a husband and that Gabrielle deserved better than him. After all, if it wasn't for him, Gabrielle wouldn't have turned to John. And if it wasn't for him, he and Gabrielle wouldn't be on the run from Victor in the first place, nor would Edie have staged a suicide attempt. This time, the stakes were higher. I snuck down into the basement and 'arranged' for the lights to go out, thanks to some 'handy work' I performed on the generator. Next, I put on a pair of rubber boots and rubber gloves from a nearby storage closet, grabbed a pair of wire cutters from a nearby tool box (the last people at Eden Lodge left a lot of junk behind), and used those wire cutters to cut some nearby wires loose. Then, I turned on a nearby sink and plugged the drain up with, ironically, the same cork to the wine that caused Edie to meet her untimely demise. Finally, I ran upstairs, took off the rubber boots and gloves, tossed the wire cutters onto the floor, ran back into my room, waited about a minute, and then I set the stage: Earlier before, I had hidden a tape recording of me screaming (I had recorded this before arriving at Eden Lodge) along with a microphone to amplify it in the pantry. I used a special remote control to turn on the tape recording—and I once again climbed out the window and up the drain pipe. I grabbed the gun I had earlier hid, snuck into Tom's room, and fired a shot. I took a few steps in the dark, careful not to let anyone see me, and once again took a shot. Knowing I only had seconds before Carlos ran away from where I wanted him to stay, I leaped over the stair banister and pushed Carlos down the basement stairs and straight into the puddle of water. The following action was almost instantaneous: He instantly began jerking around, his body slowly burning up like a badly barbecued piece of meat. The sight of him dancing around like a little marionette made me laugh. I tried to hold it back so no one would hear me, but I couldn't help it. I let out an insane, maniacal laugh. I had only laughed for about ten seconds before I heard someone's footsteps. I quickly ran back into Edie's room and took my usual means of transportation (I think the reader of this has it memorized by now) up to Tom's room and hid the gun in his night stand before returning. After Carlos was placed in Edie's room, I climbed up to Adam and Katherine's room and slipped the last bit of my chloral hydrate into Katherine's tea mix. It was enough to render her unconscious and I returned a short time later to tie her wrists and legs together, duct tape her mouth shut, put her body in the bathtub, and turn the bathtub on—and leave it running. Katherine Mayfair is almost as big a hypocrite as Bree Hodge, if not more so. Of course, she doesn't have nearly as much skeletons as Bree, but has plenty enough to make me just want to sock her. What kind of mother would kill her husband in front of her own child and then attempt to have the child's memory completely erased, even if it meant risking the child's life?

And now came the final act, the act I had been waiting for—three people who were frightened of each other. And one of them found a gun in their own nightstand! I knew that at this point, they'd want to get out of the house as soon as possible, so I once again took my means of transportation and hid right behind one of the bear statues, waiting for them to come outside—and sure enough, they did. Although I did not necessarily hate Susan Mayer, she was incredibly irritating. She had done incredibly childish things to get some petty men to notice her and had burned down Edie's house, how on Earth could she be fit to be a good mother? Harsh as I was to kill a pregnant woman, she had to go, so I played a tape recording I had once again earlier recorded: I imitated Mike's voice and chanted, "Susan," over and over again. Since I knew none of them would have a fit mental condition after all they'd been through, I knew Susan would play into my trap. And sure enough, she did. Almost as soon as she heard the voice, I began pushing the bear statue. Here, I knew I was taking a big risk because if the statue fell off target, I'd be spotted. Luckily, I was right on target. As soon as the statue began to fall, I ran across the ledge, slid behind one of the other statues, and made my way through the window into another person's room (I forget which). I then grabbed a nearby chair (I'll explain in a minute) and quickly ran into Bree's room, where I sat back and watched the fun.

The last to die were Tom and Bree because I could never bring myself to actually kill Tom. I just loved the bastard too much. So I hoped that if he, along with one other person, outlived everyone else the other person would come to the conclusion that Tom was the murderer and kill him not only out of self-defence, but also to avenge the deaths of their friends. However, it could not be another man because otherwise, the two would just get into a stupid fight which would be an insult to my little rhyme. No, it had to be another housewife to kill him because women don't settle conflict the same way men do. Instead, they use strategy and cunning to defeat their enemies. And who would be up for the job better than Bree? I'm fully aware of the things she's done to keep her family name an honourable one. Not only that, but I have a deep-seated hatred for her for what she did to her son, as I have mentioned earlier. Therefore, she fit all the necessary categories to be my final victim. I was rather pleased with how she tricked Tom: She lifted part of the statue off of Susan's body, pretended to faint, and pick-pocketed Tom's gun. When he realized what she had done, he tried to kill her, but alas, it was the female species that won out in the end.

Knowing I had little more than five minutes before Bree came inside, I pulled out a rope I had been keeping in my pocket and made a noose out of it. I set up the chair, stood up on it, and hung the noose onto the black hook. I then snuck downstairs and observed Bree from the parlour as I slowly followed her upstairs. There was a brief instance where she almost caught me, but luckily, I was able to hide myself. Bree made an entertaining psychological experiment. Would the knowledge of the fact that she had failed as a parent, the hypnotic suggestion of her surroundings, and the initial shock and nervous tension of having just killed someone be enough to coerce her into taking her own life? I thought it would, but there was a part of me that was worried it wouldn't work. To my great surprise, it did. Bree Hodge hanged herself before my very eyes as I stood observing her from the slightly open door. Almost immediately after, I moved the chair and propped it up neatly against the wall—and laughed. After all, this is how Bree would've wanted it; she wouldn't like to leave any messy details behind. She would've wanted everything to be neat and tidy. How ironic.

As for now…I must finish this. Why? Yes, why. I suppose there's a vain part of me that wants the world to know just how clever I have been. I crave posthumous recognition for my work. I wish for everyone to question my motives and whether they were right or wrong. The true identity behind pseudonyms must be revealed eventually.

I may be gone by the time this is finished, but I will not be forgotten. My plan will be gossiped about for years, studied in colleges, and who knows—they may even still be studied when my children go to college. My children might be ashamed at first that their mommy was a murderer, but in time they'll come to be proud of where they came from.

However, I do not plan on stabbing myself as my fellow victims have recorded about my death, for there would be a huge poetic injustice in that. I will instead be found in the kitchen with the gun in my hand, after having shot myself in the head, as Mary Alice Young did. Unlike Mary Alice Young, I will tape my confession to the fridge, as a housewife would tape a list of groceries or her children's accomplishments to the fridge. Although it would make the police figure out the solution that much sooner, it would also be poetic justice: Wisteria Lane's first great mystery started with a bang, and so its second great mystery shall end with a bang.

Lynette Scavo

**THE END**

_Credit Song: __Lies__ by Evanescence_

_Quote: Who says that murder's not an art?—Roxie Hart, __Roxie__ from the movie/Broadway hit __Chicago_

**A/N: Wow…I can't believe the story's actually over. I guess that's what I get for updating frequently, lol! To those of you who guessed correctly, congratulations! You get the Agatha Christie Clue Award, for spotting the trickiest of clues! This award enables you free access to my other ATTWN-based stories that are based on the actual novel…which you can access by going to my profile page! Okay, so anyone can see my other ATTWN stories from there, lol, but still, congrats! For those of you who didn't spot the clues pointing to Lynette (and for those who randomly guessed), here they are:**

**In the beginning, Lynette was thinking of course, she must've met Miss Teri Game in college. She wasn't trying to remember where she met Miss Teri Game; she was trying to think up a good story to give in case anyone asked how she knew Miss Game!**

**Lynette was the one who suggested that they all go into groups and later on split up and Gabrielle supported her one hundred percent and did not question her.**

**For Lynette's 'death', I pulled off a similar trick AC used in one of her books (but I'm not revealing which one!): While I had been telling the truth about Lynette's 'death', I simply didn't tell the WHOLE truth. All I said was that Lynette saw a familiar face and screamed, hoping that someone would hear her—but I didn't go into as much detail about her 'death' as I did with the other deaths that took place on-screen.**

**One of you did follow this clue: Gabrielle isn't very bright, yet she was able to somehow figure everything out before everyone else did.**

**As Lynette stated in her confession, there was a clue hidden in one of the verses: One said he'd stay there and then there were seven. Hence, Lynette didn't really die, she **_**stayed there.**_

**When the police were talking about the murders, Lynette's death wasn't mentioned; they just said two people were shot. They never said anything about someone being stabbed. Two of you (sudoku and GinaHolden Love) followed this clue.**

**I hope you all had as much fun reading this story as I had writing it. Although I don't have an all-time favourite, I'd have to say that this fanfic is, to quote Agatha Christie about (ironically enough) ****And Then There Were None****, 'a better piece of craftsmanship than anything I have ever written'.**


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